18 Karat Run: Aces & Eights
by JRisner
Summary: Six, Boone, and Veronica awaken at the Sierra Madre, where they are confronted by Elijah. Will they stand together to overcome the obstacles placed before them or will human nature take control? After all, greed is in our blood. Play the hand you're dealt.
1. Prologue: Begin Again

_**STOP! Are you up to date on ****18 Karat Run: A Courier's Tale****? If you're not, mosey on over to my profile and enjoy! **_

Dead Money was my favorite DLC. The setting, the atmosphere, the story...I loved it. So I think I'll really enjoy writing this part of Six's adventure. Hopefully, you'll enjoy reading it too. Be sure to check out my profile and follow the Deviantart link to my nephew's page and check out the cover we designed (and he drew) - at least, as soon as he posts it.

* * *

Sitting in silence for as long as he had, the old man was sure this was the end. He had finally made it inside…only to have the imbeciles turn on each other. The explosive collars were intended to reinforce cooperation. Compliance. But no…in the end, greed had overtaken them. And they betrayed one another. Leaving the old man trapped within.

But that wouldn't be a problem next time. If there was a next time. He had fine tuned the collars' frequency now. Fine tuned the detonator. If one collar went off…next time…all of them would go off. Failure would not be tolerated again. It must be so…for the sake of the Brotherhood. Without him…without his ideas, his ways…the Brotherhood would surely die. Of that he was certain. And he would not let that happen. The Brotherhood would not fall as the Enclave did. They just needed the right tools and guidance. He was sure the Old World technology tucked away with that vault would do just that. It would save the Brotherhood. And he would be welcomed back…arms wide open.

The suite he was in was rather large. A bedroom adjacent to it housed a king sized bed and the blackened remains of some pre-war woman. The old man guessed – given the ample supply of meds around her – that she was an addict. And, perhaps, of some importance, given the quality of the silk dress still draped around her skeletal vestiges. In fact, there was a wardrobe…with a variety of dresses. All made of silks and fine linens. But the one on the decayed carcass was special…it was the same as the holograms that patrolled the casino.

Outside the suite the holographic projection of that starlet roamed the halls. He was safe…in here. In her room. But out there…the hologram was lethal – firing potentially lethal concentrations of energy. He was unable to locate the transmitter that broadcasted the hologram. So he was forced to retreat into this room. The plan had been so close…he was just outside of the vault he coveted so. But his captives had rebelled…and turned on each other! He couldn't get that thought out of his mind. Greed. That's what it was. The treasure within that vault. Once they were so close to it…they couldn't resist. And they had _fucking_ _turned on each other_. He wouldn't make that mistake again. No.

The old man made his way to the suite's bar. He studied the shelf carefully before selecting a bottle of scotch and a shot glass. He sat at a table in the suite's lobby – removing a pack of cigarettes from the innards of his worn dark blue robes. He packed the cigarettes briefly then withdrew one – electing to light it with a nearby hot plate. He took a long drag from the cigarette, pouring himself a shot of scotch.

Then he turned his attention to a firearm situated on the table in front of him. The stock was worn and faded. It was pump action, and had a scope. The rifle was the result of his own handiwork. A child of his own creation – it was an energy based weapon. But, unlike other energy weapons, it did not use plasma or lasers. Instead, it used concentrated light-based holographic energy. This was due to the method in which he had created it. The rifle was an amalgamation of components – the stock and body had come from a salvaged grenade launcher. Modified…with the technology he had discovered here, within the casino. The scope he had salvaged from an old Laser Rifle; though he had, of course, modified it. The scope had less range than the traditional laser rifle scope…but for reason. The rifle acted more like an energy shotgun – and packed a punch that could only be rivaled by the Gauss rifle he was all too familiar with. Due to its spread – ha had elected to give the scope less magnification, for easier close quarters aiming.

In all honesty, it had not been simple for him to create. Between his joint pain and scavenging for the materials, he had a hell of a time putting it together.

The man paused briefly, rubbing his knuckles. He stood, making his way to the adjacent bedroom and walked to the remains of the pre-war starlet. At her feet, he found a syringe of Med-X. He injected half the syringe into his left wrist; then, he injected the other half into is right.

"Damn arthritis…" The old man clasped his hands together. On his wrist, he wore a pip-boy. It crackled…static. "What?" The old man looked at his pip-boy with a slight expression of bewilderment. "What's this?"

"That voice…Elijah?"

* * *

Six roused; his eyes were heavy and his chest sore. He coughed into his hand – stopping briefly to examine the contents of his cough. Blood? No. Too clustered, too thick. He made his way to one knee and scanned his surroundings. Some type of pre-war town, a large non-functioning fountain. A holographic image projected at the center – a woman. Quite attractive too. But how had he gotten here? He didn't remember traveling. What was the last thing he could remember? A radio…the faint beginnings of some pre-war song. The red gas…expelling from the radio. Boone and Veronica…

Six made his way to his feet. Then he saw them…both unmoving, lying in the dry fountain. Six approached them…

"Boone," Six gave him a quick slap to the face, Boone's face contorted briefly with pain. "Boone? Are you with me?" Another quick slap. Nothing. Once more…Boone caught his wrist.

"Don't do that again." Six grasped Boone's hand with his own – pulling him to his feet. "Where are we?"

"I don't know." Six turned to Veronica. "Vee?" He stepped towards her…she groaned. "Vee?"

"I'm up. I'm up…" Veronica sat up, rubbing her eyes. She smacked her lips, tasting the air around her. Her mannerisms not unlike that of a child having to get up early for chores. She looked around her…"Whoa. This town is awesome…" She coughed. "Except for that….taste. Like copper…what is that?"

Six checked his pip-boy. "Don't know. It's not identifying. Picking up trace amounts of various heavy metals though."

"Is it toxic?" Boone asked flatly.

Six shrugged. "Don't know…but that's probably a safe assumption…what's that on your neck?"

Boone reached up, tugging at the steel band encircling his neck. "No. Don't touch it." Veronica felt her own neck. "Explosive collars…we're all wearing them."

"Something tells me this isn't a friendly visit then…someone wants us here," Boone let his hand fall from his collar. "What about communication? Are you picking up any signals?"

Six flipped through his menus, "Yeah…"

His pip-boy hissed with static…then a voice. "Damn arthritis…" they could hear the sound of cracking knuckles. "What? What's this?"

"That voice…" Veronica grabbed Six's wrist. "Elijah?"

"Veronica? How did you…of course…the FEV reject. Still following orders. How many of you are there?"

"Three."

"Veronica. Listen to me. By now you've surely realized that you and your group are outfitted with explosive collars. I'm sorry you were dragged into this… Do as I say and follow my instructions to the letter."

"Elijah…I don't understand…How did we get here?"

"You…must've walked into one of my traps in the Mojave. The FEV reject…it must have retrieved you."

Boone eyed Six, "FEV reject?" he echoed silently.

"Veronica. The large structure overlooking the villa. The Sierra Madre Casino…I'm trapped within. I need you to break inside…A heist…if you will. Too long in the making. I need you to _get me out_."

"But…why use the collars? You know I'd help you if you'd just ask."

"The collars…that's not my doing. The FEV reject…it acts on impulse. It follows orders. It must have found you…in one of my traps. It put the collar on your neck…brought you here. The collars…they enforce obedience. Too many uncooperative individuals…All of your collars are linked…if one of you die, you all die. I didn't want to place collars on you to enforce compliance. Failures upon failures. So many lives claimed…by the Madre, by me…by each other. Play clever…refuse? Try to run…disobey me. That collar on your neck will go off and take your head with it," the voice paused for a long minute. "My pip-boy is picking up three other collars. To get inside…you have to find them. You…can't do it on your own. I cannot communicate with them…but I can communicate with you…through your pip-boy."

"It's not hers. It's mine," Six spoke loudly into the pip-boy mic.

The old man grunted, "Never the matter. The first one you'll want to seek out is Collar 8…the FEV reject."

"FEV?" Six reiterated.

"Yes…a virus. With a long history. It created the FEV reject…long ago. Turning him into a super mutant…a nightkin…not like others. He's far more docile…he'll follow your commands, collar or no."

"You want us to recruit a nightkin?" Boone hissed. "That's insane."

"You have nothing to fear. He's harmless…provided he's fed. The residents of the villa…he's particularly good at dispatching them."

Six cast Boone a wary look. "Residents? There are people still living here?"

"Living? ...Ah. I suppose one could make that argument. The villa's inhabitants…avoid them if you can. They are difficult to kill. Guns, bullets, explosions, energy…it will render them inert for a while. But…they've been changed. By the cloud? By FEV? Radiation? Maybe just something unique about their physiology? Natural selection…I'm not sure. But they'll come back. And they'll be angry."

"Where do we find this 'Collar 8'?"

"That device…your pip-boy…Robco trash. I've programmed it…and yes I have access to it…to ensure that it will help you. The bomb collars have radios embedded in them, it can latch onto the frequencies. You can trace their origin…speaking of radios…the holograms and villa _ghosts_ are the least of your concern. An unfortunate side effect of the collars…the radios and speakers around the villa have degraded over time. They emit a different signal now. One that interferes with the collars. You'll know when you're near one…the collar will beep. Stay in range too long, and it will go off…ah…prematurely..."

The old man trailed off for a long while. Six was getting ready to speak again when the voice continued. "Assemble your crew. Break into the casino. If necessary, I will guide you. Do this…and I will let you go. I will let all of you go…" the voice ended with an abrupt click.

The group looked back and forth between each other hesitantly, fearfully.

Silence.

* * *

_For those of you that may have been confused...I'm not sure if I made it entirely clear. But the two sections in this chapter happen simultaneously. I briefly shifted perspective to Elijah...to give you some insight into his character. I hope that was clear enough that you didn't need an explanation, but I thought I'd include one, just in case._


	2. Chapter 1: Ravenous Hunger

_Sorry for the large delay. Family drama...it's a tiresome thing. My nephew has recently gotten around to posting the cover to Aces & Eights on his deviantart account - make your way to my profile and follow the link to have a look at it. The one for A Courier's Tale can be found there too. He's done an excellent job on the covers thus far.__ I've elected to ignore the fact that Dead Money takes all your items...and I haven't given Six the holorifle. But, as always, just bear with me. I hope you enjoy the chapters to come.  
_

* * *

"Poker chips," Boone bent down into the fountain, lifting one and casually rotating it between his fingers. "Why are there poker chips in the fountain?"

"It's a superstition thing," Veronica explained.

"What she means," Six interjected, "is that it's good luck. Toss a cap into a fountain or well, it brings you luck."

"Right," Boone let the chip fall from his hand and back into the fountain.

Six began scanning frequencies with his pip-boy, Veronica peered over his shoulder. "Where to?"

"Well, the old man…"

"Elijah."

"Yeah. Elijah said we should go after 'Collar 8' first. My pip-boy is reading signals…low frequency waves. Doesn't say which is Collar 8 though."

"But he said that it was a super mutant," Boone chimed in.

"Yeah?"

"So listen to signals."

Six tuned into the first signal…total silence, save for sporadic knocking that seemed to come and go. The next was the voice of a man. The voice sounded almost sophisticated, eloquent. "Definitely not that one…"

Then, the next. "So hungry…Dog is sorry, sorry, sorry…please let Dog out." The transmission was followed by the sound of muffled whimpering.

Veronica's face turned sympathetic. "Aww…Dog?"

"Must be what he calls himself. Sounds mutant to me."

"Yeah," Boone agreed. "Which direction?"

"West."

The group began to navigate the winding streets of the Villa. The cloud blanketed the area around them.

"Movement," Boone raised his sand colored rifle.

"Where?"

Boone was quiet for a long moment. "Huh…I could have sworn…"

"It's this gas," Veronica began. "My vision has been pulsing since we got here."

"Mine too."

"Maybe…" Boone's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "But I'm sure I saw something."

They continued. Mostly in silence. Maybe because they were tired. Maybe because they were confused. But mostly…it was feeling of trepidation. There was something foreboding about this place. Even more so than the hopelessness of the wasteland. This place was different…it felt alive. Like the crumbling walls were watching you. Six found himself seeing things too. Things that couldn't be real. Creatures so unbelievably agile that they scaled vertical walls in a matter of seconds. Bounding from rooftop to rooftop. Boone held up his hand as they neared an intersection with the stump of a long dead tree. He ducked down behind it – Six and Veronica took cover alongside him.

"Now, I know I'm not imagining that," Boone aimed his rifle. Ahead of them – near another fountain – was what appeared to be a man. His movements erratic; he swayed unnaturally as he walked back and forth between the nearby police station and the fountain. "It's almost like he's patrolling."

"Don't shoot. We don't know if he's hostile…I'll investigate. If he attacks, put him down," Six nervously stood. Arms spread out – and weapons holstered – he walked towards the hooded figure. The figure stopped patrolling and stood erect. "Easy…not a threat."

The figured eyed him carefully – it wore some type of filtration suit and had a homemade spear holstered to its back. The spear looked to be nothing more than a wooden broom stick handle with knives fashioned to the end. With every breath it took, a green mist seeped through its mask. The masks eyes shined bright neon green. Six took a step towards it, "That's right. Nice and…" It screamed, lunging forward impossibly fast. With a quick sweeping motion it withdrew the spear and took Six's legs out from under him. It raised the spear high into the air. Boone took aim and fired. Stumbling backwards, it turned its gaze upon Boone briefly before returning its attention to Six; raising its spear again. Another shot, its head jerked back and it gargled in pain – slumping to the ground.

"Holy mother of…" Six quickly made his way to his feet. He turned to Boone, "You're slipping. Two shots."

"I didn't miss."

"Well maybe you should aim for the head the first time."

"Uh…guys," Veronica watched the creature…still faintly breathing.

"I did. Two shots. Both to the head."

"Nothing can survive two shots to the head."

The creature let out a light gasp. "Six…"

"You did, didn't you?"

Six cringed. "I wasn't shot with a .308."

The creature was on its feet now. Veronica stepped forward, bringing her gauntlet crashing into the side of its head. The creature stumbled back and let out a hollow growl.

"Get down!" Veronica jumped onto the ground, covering her head. Six and Boone followed suit. The creature's head detonated in an explosion of bright green fluid, flesh, bone, and fabric.

Boone rose first – slowly making his way to the headless cadaver. He knelt down and examined it. "The old man did say they'd be difficult to kill."

"How does that gauntlet work anyway?"

Veronica held it up proudly. "Well, I used to use a pneumatic gauntlet. But I came across this ballistic fist. I did some tinkering...removing one of the chambers and changing the firing mechanism a bit. It also doesn't use shotgun shells anymore, like the standard ballistic fist. I rigged it up so it plants a small explosive...of my own design of course."

Six blinked.

"I'm not just another pretty face. I'm crafty when I need to be...I love tinkering around with technology. Elijah taught me a lot of what I know. Everything else I learned through trial and error."

* * *

Upon entering the police station – the group was greeted by a faint beeping from their collars. They were very narrowly able to disable the many radios that peppered the station. A single large cell situated itself parallel to the entrance. Inside was the "FEV Reject" – Collar 8.

Six approached the cell. "Dog?"

The nightkin didn't respond. Boone guardedly took aim. Veronica pushed his rifle towards the ground. "He's got a collar signal…you kill him, it kills us."

Boone scowled. "I don't like this."

"Dog?" Still nothing. "Can you hear me, buddy?" Silence.

Six's pip-boy crackled to life. "What's going on?"

"M-Master?"

Six raised a brow. "We can't get Dog out of his cell."

"Dog? Is that what you're calling it? What's it doing in a cell?"

"Master…Dog is sorry. It's the voice's fault. It's in cage. In basement. Dog doesn't want it to come back."

"Look for a way to open the cell…The FEV…_ah…Dog_…his help will be invaluable." The pip-boy crackled and fell silent.

"Fan out. The key to that cell has to be here somewhere. Veronica, check the terminals. Boone, search this floor…Dog said something about the basement. I'll check it out."

* * *

"I knew you would come…" The voice greeted Six upon entering the basement. Cold, callous, menacing. "Follow my voice…that's it. You're almost there. Down here where I am…in the cage."

Six slowly made his way through the basement – as he entered one room, his collar began beeping, but he was unable to find a signal. He hesitantly made the decision to sprint through. Deeper into the cellar, he found the source of the voice – and the reason his collar had been beeping.

"That's me there. The disk. On the table. My voice. Take my voice to the caged beast…let me speak to the beast inside. Then you and I…we can talk."

"What the hell…" Six slipped the holotape into his pouch, then began the long trek back upstairs.

"What'd you find?"

Veronica shrugged. "A room with confiscated equipment...alcohol, chems. You?"

He paused briefly in front of the cell. "Found this holotape downstairs…when I entered the basement I tripped some type of transmission," he held up the holotape. "Led me to this…"

"What is it?" Veronica's eyes grew wide with curiosity.

"I don't know…one way to find out," Six slipped the tape into his pipboy.

"Dog! Back into the cage!"

The nightkin froze. It's demeanor changed. It quit rocking back and forth, and its eyes froze on Six. "No. No, this isn't right. Who are you? Where is the old man?"

Six didn't respond.

"Don't play stupid. I already have to tend to one child…you figured out how to release me from the cage, so you can't have been an idiot," the nightkin eyed the collar around Six's neck, then his gaze moved to his pip-boy. "Or…perhaps you are. With a collar around your neck _and_ another around your wrist. Why…with our collars and manacles, we may as well be _kin_."

"What happened with your voice?"

"I sleep sometimes, down in the basement, in the cage. Locked myself in here…I could feel myself slipping. Letting go. Dog's howls were growing louder…it happens from time to time. When he's hungry, and there's no one around to tell him no. Now that I'm awake, Dog goes back in the cage. Dog knows I'm here, but can't do anything about it."

Six was quiet again. Bewildered.

The nightkin stepped towards the cell door. Boone made his way around behind him – rifle at the ready. The nightkin paid no mind. "You released me from my slumber. You opened my cage. Now…I want to know why."

"We need your help…to get into the casino."

The nightkin grunted. "You're an extension of his being, then. The old man."

"What makes you think I'm the same as the old man?"

"I didn't say you and he were the same. You're no more akin to him than I am to Dog. You're a tool…a clumsy one, perhaps. But a tool nonetheless. But you share his greed…all of you do. You'll be enticed by the treasures of the Sierra Madre…and when it has a hold of you. When your greed takes over. Then you'll be more than just like him. You'll become him. Every time I see one of you, I know exactly how you got here – you couldn't help yourselves, anymore than dog can help himself. Treasure seekers. Thrill hunters. Seeking the legends of the Sierra Madre…seeking the riches within this poisonous grail...this jewel of the desert."

"Whoa…" Veronice stepped towards the cell. "I know that prolonged stealthboy use caused adverse affects in nightkin…we've had incidents with them on Black Mountain. But I don't think I've ever seen one develop personalities that were so distinctive."

"That's your answer for everything. You humans, especially brotherhood, blame prewar technology as if it's some demon responsible for all ills. I awoke because Dog needed me. To protect him. To protect us."

"You say you are not akin to Dog…as if he's a different entity entirely. Then who are you?" Veronica could barely contain her interest.

"I am the voice of reason. His conscience, so to speak. I am God."

Six half smirked. "Clever. A palindrome."

The nightkin didn't respond.

Six went on. "The old man said that you…_Dog_…brought us here. Why?"

"Dog obeys. When the old man says fetch…Dog fetches. He must have found you during his rounds…in one of the old man's traps. It must have been recent…Dog was out of his cage…he knows not to eat what he finds in the traps. But sometimes, his hunger gets the best of him. You were spared…so he must have eaten."

"You remember Dog bringing us here then?"

"No…But I don't have to see it…or remember it to know it is he that brought you here. Dog and I don't share everything. What he knows…what little he knows…I do not. What I know, he does not. But I can hear the echoes of the footfalls down in the cage. The _click_ of the collars he wrapped around your tiny necks.

"Well, _God_. We need to get you out of this cell."

"No. No…why do you think I locked him in this cell? If Dog roams, he gets into trouble…eats things he shouldn't…does things he shouldn't. The collar you have around your neck. There's one inside of me. It was cold. Now you're here…and its electromagnetic heartbeat has slithered back to life. It's burning my intestines as we speak. No, I'm not opening the cage…Dog's safer in here. _We're_ safer in here. I'm not leaving until the one who controls the collar shows. So go. Go back to your master. To the old man. Tell him to come to me. To get within my reach, and we'll settle things. Dog may follow him…I will not."

Six shook his head. "I don't think you quite understand. I'm not here because I want to be. We're in this together. You don't come with us, he'll kill us all."

"That's fine. He does that and I win. I'd rather die in this cell than have Dog follow him any longer. _Dog_, so eager to obey, always begging for recognition. I'd rather be free of this shell than have it cage me any…"

"Your voice…it caged Dog. When Six played it on his pip-boy. So I'm guessing there's a way to bring Dog back," Veronica interrupted. "The question is how…he called Elijah his master. That's it isn't it? I bet he'd be more cooperative."

"So you have contact with the old man…"

"Don't need to," Six told him. "I can play back any previous transmissions we've had."

God's gaze turned menacing. "Even if you could drag Dog out of his cage, you still couldn't get him out of _this_ cage. I put him here for a reason…if he could've escaped, he would have."

Veronica paid no mind to the cruelty in the nightkin's eyes. "Different personalities…with distinct memories. You act as if you could open the cage any time you want. I'd wager you have the key with you…in the cell. Dog doesn't know where it is. All we'd have to do is help Dog find it. So we wouldn't need you at all. Not really."

"Don't have to find it," Boone confirmed. "It's on that chain wrapped around your neck. I can see it from here."

The nightkin growled with frustration. "If you cage me…I'll find my way back out. I'll murder you. Rip you limb from limb…"

"And kill yourself in the process…"

The nightkin's anger faded…he regained composure. "Then I'll shatter every bone in your bodies. I'm not worried about your collars. I'll leave you alive. And I'll prop you up in front of the Sierra Madre…so you can see it. Forever out of reach as you die. And I'll leave. I'll keep walking until the collar goes cold."

"We don't need to bring Dog back out. I think I'd much rather have someone who can help us work out _why_ we're here. The old man you want? He's trapped in the casino. He can't get out…unless we go in after him. You don't have to trust us. But we need to work together. We just want to leave."

"Leave? No, the old man won't permit that. _You_ try to leave, and he'll detonate your collar. I can come and go as I wish. After all, Dog serves him. He'd Be none the wiser. Until the old man lets you go, you're going nowhere. This beautiful paradise with all its toxins and death…is home."

"Then it seems to me, it would be mutually beneficial for us to find this _Elijah_."

Veronica shot Six a disheartened look, but didn't speak on it. The nightkin's expression changed. He seemed perplexed. He was quiet for a long moment, then he grasped the chain around his neck. "Very well."

* * *

They were back at the central fountain in the Villa.

"I'll keep an eye on the nightkin. You go on after the next collar."

Six nodded to Boone. "Veronica, come with me."

"Which one's next?"

"Pip-boy says that this one's closest…only hear faint knocking though." They began to make their way through the villa. Six paused briefly to inspect some prewar machine. It was oddly out of place…while the rest of the villa was dilapidated and aging, the machine looked almost pristine. Unaffected by the cloud, and certainly built to last. Six examined the machine – he found a slot. "Look at this…the engraving…looks like a poker chip slot?"

"Has the same symbol as the chips we found in the fountain."

Six began toggling dials on the machine. Holographic images displayed on its central hud. "Stimpacks…25 chips. This will certainly come in handy." He turned back to Boone, who was perched on the fountain, rifle across his lap. "Boone, gather up the chips in the fountains we've passed up."

"Why?"

"It's currency…" Six slapped the machine. "And these are the vendors."

* * *

_Next chapter, Veronica and Christine reunite. It's probably going to be very difficult to write. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Again, I'm sorry about it being so late...just a little drama at home. Next update will be this Tuesday, and unless things go to hell, it won't be late._


	3. Chapter 2: Silence Is Golden

_I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Especially the end. I'll never do a romance novel - that's for sure. But I hope I've at least made Veronica's and Christine's reunion realistic._

* * *

Six and Veronica followed the winding streets of the villa. Occasionally Six would see one of the inhabitants bolt from doorway to doorway, scurry up the side of a building, or dash around a corner and out of sight.

"Why aren't they attacking us?" Veronica wondered aloud.

Six shrugged. "Maybe they're more scared of us than we are of them…"

Veronica grinned at the notion. "That'd be something wouldn't it? Some of the scribes used to say that about the geckos in the Mojave. Said they descended or mutated from tiny amphibians – so they were naturally wary."

Six scrunched up his nose, "They obviously never encountered a group of them out hunting. Saved a woman in Goodsprings. They had her pinned on a rock…attacked me and this girl I was with on sight."

"Oooh. Who's the girl?"

"Nobody. I barely even knew her."

"Does Cass know about her?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

Veronica shrugged.

Six raised a brow, stopping briefly by a trash can. Next to it lay a few of the Sierra Madre poker chips. He pocketed them, then picked up a handful of loose gravels from the cobblestone pavement. He stood and began following the signal's source again. He casually tossed the gravels about – aiming at windows, signs, and the occasional trash can. "So, what about you? Ever been in love?"

"Ever been nosy? Yeah…once. A long time ago. I mean…I don't know if it was really love. I like to think it was…but I was young. So was she. And we were naïve."

"What happened?"

"The Brotherhood happened. People seem to think that because we don't accept outside members, our current members are obligated to procreate."

"Makes sense. I mean, even you said you were concerned about the Brotherhood dying off. Running out of people to fill the armor."

Veronica shook her head. "You sound just like Elijah. If we were open to outsiders we wouldn't have that problem at all. And that would mean no 'obligations' regarding who someone wants to spend their life with." Six could tell he had hit a nerve…so he fell silent. Veronica continued, "When Elijah left California, he requested to take me with him. She was already having problems with her parents. When she found out I was headed for the Mojave…she left."

Veronica trailed off. They walked in silence, as Six was unable to think of anything to say. Twice their collars began abruptly beeping – and twice they had to find the source of the interference. He continued to toss the pebbles to and fro. When he was down to his last one, he pulled his wrist back – Veronica grabbed it and yanked him into a nearby building. The toxic gas was thick inside – Six felt his lungs burn with every breath. She peered around the corner. "Look at the size of that one…"

Six followed her gaze. Ahead of them, just in front of a glowing neon cross was another one of the inhabitants of the villa. This one was taller than the others they had seen – he wore no hood, although he still wore a filtration mask. His movements were erratic – much like his smaller counterpart. He stood almost motionless – save the occasional flutter and sway. Six withdrew his rifle – checking the clip briefly. He took aim and fired three shots in quick succession. Every shot made its mark. The creature turned to look at them. On its right fist, it wore a medical brace – attached firmly to that brace was a large, metallic object with teeth – slightly resembling the jaws of a deathclaw. A beartrap. The creature cocked its head to one side – Six could see one of the mask's visors had shattered. A point of entry. Ooze leaked from the opening in the eye, and another opening in the center of its forehead. It watched them, almost contentedly.

"Why isn't it attacking us?"

"Because we're holed up here…and we can't stay. The gas will kill us." Six holstered his rifle. "We have to fight this thing." They made their way out into the street. The creature's stance changed – it hunched its back and drew back its fist. Six unsheathed his machete. It charged. Veronica dodged around it, swiftly swinging upwards for a fierce uppercut. The creature weaved backwards – it's back and spine contorting in ways that seemed inhumanly impossible. Six leaped forward with a clumsy one handed swing, it casually lifted the metallic bear trap and deflected his blow. Its left hand swung out, knocking Veronica across the lane and into a building – which quaked and nearly crumbled at the force of the impact. Then it brought its right fist into Six's shoulder. The trap went off; seizing fabric, flesh, and bone.

Six groaned, dropping his machete to the street. He fumbled for his sidearm. Withdrawing Lucky, he shot twice more into the creature's head – its head jerked back, but it didn't fall. He dropped the gun and fumbled for his machete; narrowly reaching it, he thrust it headlong into the creature's throat, then gauchely twisted it clockwise. Warm liquid burst from its suit – spraying his face and duster. The creature went limp – but the trap held on strong. Six turned to find Veronica – who was laying unconscious on the pavement. "Vee…"

His voice was weak. "Veronica…" His eyes were getting heavy. He was bleeding profusely…He was tired. He slouched in the street…he wanted to sleep. He knew better…but he couldn't help it.

Something grasped his arm…pulling the bear trap open with ease. A sharp pain, followed by numbness. Med-X. His vision blurred, going in and out sporadically. Large hands closing around his waist – picking him up effortlessly.

"Hold on…we need to get him into one of the autodocs in the clinic. Grab the girl." The distorted image cleared briefly. Blue-gray skin. Carved chest. Scarred face. Dog…or rather, _God_.

* * *

The automatic door to the autodoc opened with a metallic hiss. Six stepped out, briefly examining his shoulder – "Damn…tore my duster." He glanced up towards the doorway, Boone stood silently. "Where's Veronica?"

"Unconscious. But well."

"Good thing you showed up when you did."

"It was the nightkin. He saw the inhabitants rushing across the rooftops in your direction. Figured one of you…or both of you…had been wounded. They've got a system. Some seek out their pray…then wait for the larger ones to wound or trap their intended victims. Then the smaller ones come in. Take what they need…drag you off into the cloud."

Six cringed at the thought. "I'll be sure to thank him."

"No," the familiar gravelly voice of the nightkin rolled into Six's ear. "You can thank me by getting me to the old man. Words…are worthless." The nightkin breathed heavily. "I believe you'll find the next collar down the hall. A pretty young thing. A little doll. All carved up – maybe by a craftsman…maybe by a drunk who didn't know his tools. And ripe for the taking."

Six raised a brow then turned to Boone. "So I have two magazines left. Forty or so shots. And I haven't found a single 5.56 round since we got here."

"Saw a reloading bench when we were at the police station. The vending machines sell .308. Break them down, use their powder, primer. Pick up your casings from here on in. I'll show you how to reload your shells. Show you a few tricks too…give your bullets a little more of a punch."

Six looked at the nightkin. "Want to show me where this girl is?"

As they neared the back of the building, Six began hearing a faint tapping. "What's that noise?"

"The girl…she's trapped," _God_ explained. "In an autodoc."

"And you left her in there?"

"Of course. You want to save her. I'd be fine letting her rot in there."

Six broke apart from the group, rushing to the source of the tapping. He stopped before the autodoc – examining it briefly before slapping a key on the panel. Boone appeared behind him. "Damn thing's jammed."

Boone eyed the machine. "There's no way we're going to get this open…"

_God_ rounded the corner. "Maybe you can find a tire iron, or crowbar…in one of the utility closets."

"Open the damn door," Boone's voice was abrasive.

The nightkin didn't move.

"You know what? Fuck this." Six flipped through the options on his pip-boy.

It crackled to life. "…he'll follow your commands, collar or no," Elijah's voice chimed.

The nightkin changed. "Dog…Dog remember you. You were mean to Dog. Make Dog sleep…let other voice come out."

"Dog. Open this autodoc." The nightkin looked at Six's small stature meticulously. "Now!"

"Always yells at Dog. Yells at Dog cause gets hungry," He stepped forward, grasping the door, and jerked it open with one arm. The door ripped out of socket – he dropped it onto the floor. A woman stumbled forward – her face horribly scarred, and her neck as well. She wore a black suit – complete with combat boots and a utility belt. The chest plate was a hard carbon fiber. She collapsed; Six narrowly caught her before she hit the ground. She looked up at him…her eyes gentle at first. As if waking from slumber. Then wide with fear. She flipped around, bringing her boot square into Six's chest, knocking him a few paces back and flat on his ass.

"Whoa, whoa…easy. I'm not going to hurt you. Are you alright?"

The woman's eyes jumped from one man to the other, then to the nightkin. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She raised her hand to her throat, tracing the large red scar beneath her chin. Her eyes widened again. She pushed herself backwards along ground, bringing her knees to her chest in the corner.

Six held up his hands. "That scar on your neck. Can you speak?"

She hastily shook her head, her eyes narrowing and her hands clinching into fists. She raised a hand to her neck again, opening her mouth at another futile attempt to speak. Six stepped forward – she recoiled, bringing up her hand to her throat – slowly brushing her index finger across her neck.

Boone chuckled. "I think that's a threat."

Six stopped. He turned to Boone. "Give me a moment. Take Dog with you." Boone nodded and gave the nightkin a tap on the shoulder. It followed him on command. Six stepped towards her again – and again she recoiled. He stopped a few feet from her and took a knee. "Look," he tapped the collar around his neck and pointed at hers. "I've got one too…I'm not your enemy."

She raised her hand to her neck, grasping the collar. She followed it around to the back of the collar, fumbling for the locking mechanism.

"Don't do that!"

She froze. Eyes wide and on Six.

"You do that, you kill us all."

She narrowed her eyes.

"We need to work together. To get out of this."

She shook her head. Using her foot, she drew an invisible line across the floor.

Six held up his hands again, "I'm not trying to cross you. But I do need your help. To get out of here…a man...has us trapped here. Crazy ass ex-Brotherhood."

She raised a brow, bring her hands up flaring them around her chin and raising her fists to the sky.

Six laughed. "Yeah. A crazy ass bearded man."

Her expression lightened. Six stood, extending his hand. After a beat, she reached up her own. He pulled her to her feet. She was short – perhaps shorter than Sunny. Despite the scars on her face, she was surprisingly attractive. Six smiled at her. She eyed him carefully, and lightly smirked back. "See. We're getting along already."

"_Christine?_"

The scarred woman turned to the door, eyes wide with surprise. Veronica's face was paralyzed with astonishment, excitement, and melancholy. The girl rushed forward, leaping her small frame into Veronica's arms and devouring Veronica's lips with her own. Six raised an eyebrow.

After a long – almost inappropriately long – kiss, Veronica sat the woman back on her feet. She raised her hands, tracing the scars around her face. "Oh my God. It's been so long...I've missed you so much. But...what…I don't…How did this happen?"

Christine looked at her feet, then back to Veronica. She imitated "crazy bearded man" again.

Veronica looked at her in confusion. Six chimed in, "Elijah happened."

Christine nodded.

"What? No. I mean…Elijah's not…"

Christine clasped her hand around Veronica's mouth. She tapped her collar then pointed towards Six's pip-boy then brought her fingers to her mouth in a hushing motion.

"Shit…They act like radios. For eavesdropping," Six speculated.

Christine nodded quickly.

"We have to do something about that…" Veronica frowned.

The woman made elaborate hand motions – twisting dials, pointing towards Six's pip-boy, then cupping her hand around her ear.

"Listen to…music?" Six asked.

She pointed at him, bringing index finger and her thumb close together…then shook her head. She twisted more imaginary dials, then pointed towards the invisible object.

"Radios," Veronica guessed.

She nodded exuberantly, smiling wide.

Six briefly nodded too. "I know just the place."

As Six made his way to the door, Christine approached the autodoc. She hesitantly looked at it for a long moment. Six watched her…realizing she was afraid of it. He peeked inside – he saw a rifle. Not unlike the one Boone had been carrying. It was silenced, and as black as her suit. Six reached into the autodoc, grabbing the rifle, then handed it to her. She smiled graciously, then pointed at the floor. Six examined the floor of the autodoc where he saw a silenced 10mm sub-machinegun. He scooped it up and handed it to her too. She curtsied with an imaginary dress and turned back to Veronica. She took Veronica's hand into her own – pressing her lips against Veronica's own again.

Six took leave – making his way to Boone and Dog. "Great," he whispered to himself. "Nothing like a good game of charades."

* * *

They were back inside the police station. Christine was making elaborate hand gestures to Veronica. Veronica would nod from time to time. Then they began to work on the radios.

"Stomach rumbling…Dog hungry."

Six watched them contently.

"Dog tired."

Boone sighed heavily. "Bring the other one back please."

"Way ahead of you…" Six toyed with the knobs on his pip-boy.

"Dog! Back into the cage!"

"Well…if it isn't the clever one," he turned towards Christine and Veronica. "And back at the police station – no less. Astute of you. Adding a layer of electronic interference to ensure privacy. "

"Seemed like the safest place to be," Six admitted.

"My internal clock is ticking…night is fast approaching. The seekers that no doubt followed you here. They'll be going to retrieve their trappers. Like the fellow who mauled your shoulder. When night falls…they're much more active. Much more aggressive. As long as the holographic greeter outside is active we should be completely safe."

"What greeter?"

God hissed. "You're kidding me…it's not on?"

"I didn't see anything…"

"Then I fear you've doomed us all. Unless you can turn it back on in time. Dog…is better with this shell than I am. You need to activate the hologram. The inhabitants…watch it. Ghost-worship perhaps. It will keep them preoccupied, and keep us safe here."

"And you're asking me to bring Dog back?"

"I'm asking you to do what's necessary to keep us alive. The…inhabitants of the villa. They are difficult to kill..." _God _trailed off. "They are difficult to kill…but not to devour. And Dog is always hungry. If he is with you when they fall, he will fall on them, end them. That will be a priceless commodity – his hunger. Especially once night falls. It will draw the _ghosts_ to us like bloatflies to a cadaver. If you are to succeed…you will need to unleash the beast."

* * *

Outside, the air was growing thick. Six checked his pip-boy.

9:23 pm.

He couldn't tell night from day here. But…it seemed…at night the cloud was thicker, and the air was cooler. "Don't like this place…Dog want to go back to the church."

Six examined his surroundings. "I don't blame you, fella."

"I saw a terminal this way…" Boone took point. Six and Dog fell behind him. From the police station they traveled north-east. Passed the fountain where they had encountered their first _ghost_, then the tree stump. East of the stump was a terminal on a wall just next to a set of concrete stairs. A small fountain sat empty and idly in the middle of the square.

Six tuned his pip-boy to Veronica's frequency. "How much longer."

"Should be any time now…" her voice cracked from the other end. The interference was already working. Six approached the terminal.

"It's encrypted."

"So decrypt it."

"I've never done anything like that before..."

Boone's face turned solemn. "You're kidding me?"

"No…"

"Then why didn't you bring Veronica or her girlfriend?"

"I didn't think the terminal would be locked."

"Because most pre-war terminals aren't." Movement. Boone took aim. "Well you better start learning quick."

"Dog no like ghost people. Keep stabbing Dog, cutting him. Voice doesn't get mad when Dog feeds on the people here. Voice doesn't like ghost people, worried there are too many. Too many knives."

Boone fired. One of the inhabitants crashed from the roof and to the ground. Dozens more were bounding from rooftop to rooftop. Heading straight for them. "Well Dog…I hope you're hungry," he jibed, taking aim again.

Six connected his pip-boy to the terminal.

**************‹**Admin**›**

**************‹**Set Terminal/Inquire**›**

**************‹**Set File/Protection-Owner:Renewed Accounts**›**

"Any day now…"

"Not helping, Boone."

**************‹**Set Halt Restart/Maintenance**›**

The terminal buzzed to life.

**************‹**4 attempts left**›**

Six scanned the gibberish. "Ah…password. Password…There's like twenty choices!"

"Choose one!"

The creatures were on them now. Dog was tossing them back and forth with little restraint. Boone was firing rapidly. Once they were down, Dog was on them in a second, ripping them to shreds.

Six selected one of the words.

**********‹**Suplex –2/6 Correct**›**

"You can't be serious." A spear smashed into the concrete by his head. It was quickly followed by the body of an inhabitant as Dog crushed its head into the villa wall.

**********‹**Hopper – 2/6 Correct**›**

Six scanned the terminal.

**********‹**Sister – 4/6 Correct**›**

"One attempt left!"

"Make it count!" Boone yelled, taking aim and firing another round.

Six's breathing became unstable. He could feel sweat pouring off his brow. His beret stuck uncomfortably to his skin.

"You gotta be shitting me…"

**********‹**Duster**›**

**********‹**...**›**

**********‹**Please wait while system loads.******›**

**********‹**Access Granted**›**

The terminal flashed for a second…

**********‹**Loading**›**

"Low on ammo!"

"Just a second!"

******‹**Activate Hologram›

Six selected the option. Immediately a bright blue ghostly apparition appeared in the center of the fountain. The creatures froze momentarily then retreated back to the rooftops. Precariously peering over the edge – cautiously watching the holographic intruder.

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

"No argument from me," Boone concurred.

"Dog, come." Six commanded. The nightkin fell in line behind him and they hastily retreated back to the station.

* * *

_Doing the password thing proved to be more challenging than I thought it'd be. I'm pretty sure it all fits correctly, though. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy Dead Money. I play through the game as I write - so I can keep it accurate as I do my retelling. Dead Money is a lot of fun. By far my favorite DLC. Lonesome Road is a close second._

_I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Writing Christine's reactions and expressions may prove to be difficult. But I'm pretty sure I can manage. As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the latest installment to 18 Karat Run.  
_


	4. Chapter 3: The King Of Swing

_This chapter doesn't have as much action as the last chapter. But, not every chapter can be action oriented. Enjoy._

Update: So this chapter had a huge error that no one seemed to notice...I've fixed it though. Cheers.  


* * *

"You certainly handled yourself well out there."

Dog looked at Six, his expression vacant. Six raised a brow.

"Did my eyes deceive me, or did I see you eating some of them?"

"Started eating them cause wouldn't go quiet when Dog smashed them with bear jaw," the Nightkin rubbed his stomach. "Dog crush them, then when stop twitching, then eats them."

Boone watched the creature warily. "So…you have to behead them to kill them?"

"No…if rip off arms or legs, ghost people stay down. Easy to rip off legs and arms when fall down. If can't rip off legs, make them into burnt pile. They not get back up."

"So…dismemberment and disintegration, then? That's the easiest way to kill them?"

"Dism…disin…chop legs off while stand up, eat when fall down, or make into burnt pile. Dog not like that. Can tell when they not dead…twitch and make low noise, then make kssss-chkk noise and get back up." The creature stepped forward and turned Boone around, firmly grasping his shoulder. Boone winced in pain. "See where back of collar is? Hit here, base of neck. Or here," the creature pointed at Boone's lower spine. "Right on spine – crack. Dog hits them then eats them so they go quiet and not get back up." It released Boone and wandered off. "Dog still hungry."

"Ah…Alright then," Six glanced at Boone, who was holding his shoulder.

"I don't like that thing."

Six half grinned and turned to Christine and Veronica, who were still busy working with the radios. "Any progress?"

Christine held up a finger. Veronica gave a light nod. "Yeah…we can turn them on now. The signals no longer interfere with the collars. Well, I mean…the other signals around the villa will. But the ones in this station won't. Right now they won't interfere with the eavesdropping. Christine and I will work on that tomorrow."

Christine made her way to Six, scooping up his left hand and pulling him to a nearby desk with a terminal. She pointed to his pip-boy, then to the radio. "You need…to work on my pip-boy?"

She nodded. She pointed to Six's collar, then to the pip-boy again. She opened her left hand, showing six her palm. Then she began slowly opening and closing her hand – then more rapidly.

Six narrowed his eyes.

She repeated the process, more slowly this time. Veronica beamed, "That's brilliant…" she turned to Six. "Christine can manipulate your pip-boy so that it emits a frequency that will slow down the effects of the other decayed radios and speakers around the villa."

Six nodded, "That'll definitely be useful." He unstrapped his pip-boy and handed it to her. She flashed him a smile in return. Yawning, Six turned to Boone. "So, about that reloading bench?"

Boone led Six down a hall adjacent to the main holding cell and to a small storage room. The room was cramped, metal shelves lining the walls. At the far end, opposite the entrance was an aged reloading bench. "The only problem we're going to have is primer. The primer used in .308 and 5.56 is a bit different. We can still use it…but it's going to affect a few things with your rifle. You'll notice some changes in trajectory, velocity, accuracy, and deterioration. Nothing regular maintenance and a little practice can't handle."

Six blinked.

Boone shook his head and sighed, "I've got a maintenance kit in the stock of my rifle. I'll take care of it for you."

* * *

Six yawned...it was had to have been getting late. Occasionally he could hear the villa inhabitants scurry across the roof – likely joining the others in observing the hologram. What had God called it? Ghost worship? In any event, he still wasn't entirely convinced that they were safe. But so far, nothing had attempted to get into the station. Veronica had taken one of the cells in the back of the station and was sleeping soundly. Dog had long disappeared into the station's basement; while Boone was busy reloading Six's spent shots. Six yawned.

A light tap at his shoulder.

He turned to see Christine. She stood before him, smiling triumphantly. She reached him his pip-boy.

Six strapped it back to his wrist. "Get it working, I take it?"

She smiled, pulling up a chair and sitting next to him. She grabbed his wrist and flipped through the dials and menus. She stopped when she pulled up the pip-boy's audio logs. She pointed to a recording.

"So…I play this frequency and it'll disrupt the decayed frequencies around me?"

She nodded, then rotated her hand in a circular motion.

"Oh, you put it on a loop? Great."

She then pointed to the audio log again. She tapped it, then covered the speaker on her collar with her left hand. With her right, she mimicked a mouth talking, then cupped her ear and shrugged.

"This one…interferes with what Elijah can hear?"

She gave him another nod. He smiled at her. She returned the smile until she noticed his eyes tracing the scars around her face. Her smile faded and she let her gaze fall to the ground. He brushed her shoulder. "Hey. They're nothing to be ashamed of. Scars…define us. It shows you've persevered…what you've been through, and that you were strong enough to survive it. Besides, I think you're stunning."

She smiled again, but it was different – somehow distant, and a little hurt.

"I'm sure Veronica does too…"

Christine breathed in deeply and shrugged.

"The scar on your throat. That's from the auto-doc. But the ones on your face…those are different."

She sighed then stood, placing her palm on top of her head. Then, stretching as far as her tiny frame could reach, she brought her hands up far above her head.

"…Tall?"

She shook her head.

"…Big?"

Another nod. Then she brought her hands to the ground, far apart. She stood, bringing them – slightly inclined, to a peak.

"Big triangle?"

Her eyes fell flat. She shook her head. She repeated the motion. Six shrugged. "Maybe we can get one of the autodocs working properly – to repair your voice?"

She shook her head quickly. Six recalled how she reacted to the autodoc, and how he had gotten her belongings out of it for her. She was afraid.

"Maybe…you can communicate differently? By writing?"

She frowned. She tapped her head and placed her open hands together, then unfolded them like a book. She looked at her palms inquisitively, then scratched her head.

"You can't read or write."

She looked to the ground.

"I could teach you."

She frowned, still looking down.

"It's because of the scars isn't it?"

Again, she nodded.

"If you can't read, how'd you work on my pip-boy?"

She drew out a quick equation in the air before him.

"You can still understand numbers and equations."

She pressed her lips together lightly, giving Six a thumbs up.

Six breathed in, falling quiet. She sat next to him in silence for a long time. She pointed at him; tilting her hand upright, she used her index and middle finger to imitate walking. Then pointed at the ground.

"How'd we get here? We got gassed. Woke up here."

She frowned and tapped her own chest.

"You too?"

She gave him another thumbs up. She sat next to him in silence for a long while before yawning. She stood, placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. She brought her hands together and laid her face against them.

"I'm going to wait up a while longer. You should go on to bed. Veronica's probably been waiting for you."

She gave him a light pat then let her arm fall to her side.

* * *

"You're sure you don't want me to tag along? I can still catch up?" Boone spoke into one of the station CB's.

"No," the sound of Six's voice crackled through the speaker. "If things get too rowdy, I'll use my stealth boy."

"You have a stealth boy?"

"Yeah, picked it up in Goodsprings. In an old safe."

"What's the charge on it? Do you have an extra fission battery?"

"No. But if it goes dead, I'll take the one out of my pip-boy. You stay there, keep an eye on that nightkin, and watch out for the girls."

"Uh, we can handle ourselves _thank you very much_," Veronica chirped.

"I'd still feel better if Boone was there keeping an eye on things," Six replied. "I'm nearing the residential district. Cloud's thick here…I can see some of the ghost people stalking the streets. Maintain radio silence." The speaker clicked.

Boone sat back in his chair, kicking it up on two legs and resting against the divider behind him. He reached beside of him, picking up his rifle. Opening a compartment on the stock, he withdrew maintenance supplies. Christine watched him inquisitively for a moment then retrieved her own rifle. She laid it across the desk in front of him.

Boone looked at it briefly, then looked at her. "You want me to clean it?"

She smiled. Boone gave her a light nod, "You have enough ammunition to do you?"

She scrunched up one side of her face and tilted her head to the side slightly.

".308?"

She gave him a quick nod.

"The vending machines around the villa. I'm sure you've seen them. They sell .308 rounds," Boone rummaged through his pocket, withdrawing a Sierra Madre chip and tossed it to Christine. "You see any of these lying around, collect them. It's the tender the machines accept."

She examined the chip, closely inspecting it. Then placed it in her pocket.

"Aren't you the precious one. Scars tell a story…some old. Some new. The one on your throat is fresh and red," God's eyes shone derisively.

Christine paid him no mind and returned to Veronica's side. He turned to Boone. "Where is the old man's lackey?"

"Gone to get the final piece of the puzzle," Boone said, not looking up from Christine's rifle. "How'd you get back? He didn't play the command."

"Dog must've eaten his fill. Between the ghost people and dead man in power armor in the basement."

"Power armor?" Veronica looked up from the radio. "What man in power armor?"

"Likely another victim of one of the old man's traps."

Veronica frowned – recalling the two dead Brotherhood Paladins they'd found in Vault 11. The scouts had been sent in a set of three. It must have been the missing Paladin. After all, he was headed towards the abandoned bunker; which was where they had been caught.

Veronica examined her robes. "Is the power armor salvageable?"

God sneered. "Quite the contrary. Dog doesn't care what's on the body that he's crushing in his hands. He'll mangle it, twist it…make it fit until he's full. Dog can't help himself – especially when the steel is attached to flesh. Red. Warm…he eats to his heart's content. That's how this collar ended up in our stomach. When he's full…I take the reins."

Veronica could almost feel her temperature rising – the nightkin's calm, collected demeanor in the face of her loss was infuriating. Christine swiftly took Veronica's hand into her own. Boone glanced up from Christine's rifle – he could feel the tension in the room.

The radio crackled, "Got him. Headed back now."

* * *

Six heard the familiar sound of a trip wire snapping. He quickly dove from the doorway into the apartment, taking cover behind a cloud covered sofa. He heard the familiar clink of grenades falling into the room, then a thunderous explosion. The couch took most of the blast, but flipped up onto his arm – smashing it into the floor. Six bit his lip to keep from screaming. He searched through his pouch – withdrawing a stimpack, and shoved it into his arm. He felt his arm tense and expand, a warm tingling feeling crept over him. He hated the feeling of stimpacks. He pressed on it lightly…it wasn't broken. That was definitely a plus. Shouldering his rifle, he checked the clips Boone had given him before he had left. Boone had scratched "match" into the side of the two clips. Six inserted one into his rifle. He slowly made his way through the apartment…one story…two stories up. Rifle at the ready, he made his way around the corner.

"Have a seat, then we can talk." Six lowered his rifle. Sitting before him was a ghoul. He wore dark shades and a tuxedo. His voice was smooth, stylish. He motioned to the seat again. "Please. You've come a long way – the least I can do is let you rest your feet for a second."

Six tuned his pip-boy to the jamming signal – a faint static noise filled the air. The radio the ghoul had been listening to fell silent. Ensuring Elijah did not listen in on his conversation, he cautiously advanced, sitting next to the ghoul. He heard the familiar click of a demolition charge.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I'm afraid not. Get up without my permission, I'll blast your ass so far through your head, it'll turn the moon cherry-pie red. Can I interest you in a martini?" The ghoul lifted a rusted tin can. Six wasn't sure what was in it…but from the smell, he was certain he really didn't want to know.

"No thank you." Six grimaced. "I hope you used a shaped charge. Or you'll kill us both."

The ghoul chuckled. "Looks like someone has done some work in blue collar construction. You must make your mother proud. No, I'm no fool. So, let's keep this sweet and polite and finish our conversation with no misunderstandings."

Six exhaled. "Alright. I'm listening."

"Good. I was hoping you'd be more…accommodating than the other tourists."

"Tourists?"

"Of course. They don't stay long…or rather they don't stay alive long. If they survive beautiful weather, the locals, and the traps…then the greed takes over and they start sizing each other up for funeral suits. I can tell you right now, they didn't stick close to each other. And when they did, they let down their guard at the wrong moment with the wrong individuals. Some left signs for the others, trying to help them out. It just led to them getting killed by someone a little greedier than they were."

"Elijah has taken precautions this time. To make sure that doesn't happen."

"Precautions?" The ghoul lit up a cigar, then offered one to Six. He accepted.

"The collar on your neck?" Six pointed, taking a drag of his cigar. "The one on mine? They're linked. One goes off…they all go off."

The ghoul's smile faded. "That's odd, the bomb collars weren't linked before."

"Too many failures, he told us."

"I heard my necktie start beeping the moment you wandered into range. I believe you…and I know what it means. That I'm somehow part of this. This _is_ interesting. A real bad contract you have…_we_ have."

"For the moment. I currently have my…agent…working on getting me out of this _contract_."

The ghoul grinned. "Well that certainly is an ace in the hole."

"I find it's best not to play the game…if you're not sure you can win."

"And where is this _agent_, if I may be so bold?"

"She's currently at the police station. With friends. Working on a way to get us out of our contract."

"The police station? That place is a regular ghost people discotheque…almost as bad as Salida del Sol and Puesta del Sol. Both thick with the cloud and crawling with ghost people…a hunting ground."

"We've got the holographic greeter running outside the station. Keeps the inhabitants at bay."

The ghoul grinned even wider. "You've got spunk…_and_ ingenuity. I may be a betting man, but I prefer to swing the odds in my own favor. If you're here to work with that foolish old man…I do believe much rather have you on my side, given your resourcefulness. The resolution is simple really. You want to live, and I want what's in the Madre."

"What is in the Sierra Madre?"

"That _is_ the question, isn't it? What brought you here? Was it the call of the Sierra Madre…beauty isn't she? The voice of Vera Keyes…a very talented woman. In and out of the sheets…so to speak. Is she the one that invited you here? Or maybe you didn't catch her voice on the radio at all. Maybe you just woke up confused like some of the others. But…lucky you're still breathing."

"For the both of us."

"Hmm…yes, I suppose it is. Alright. I'll come with you. Don't have to take the long way back. There's a shortcut across the way, you see. It's through the cloud. If you haven't already forced the lock on the gate we can make our way back to the police station in half the time." The ghoul stood and retrieved a remote detonator from within his tux. He flipped a switch. "Whenever you're ready."

Six made his way to his feet. He extended his hand. "Six."

"Well, that's what I like! A civil audience," the ghoul took Six's hand within his own. His skin's texture was almost enough to turn Six's stomach. "Dean Domino. The pleasure is yours."

Six raised a brow, then flipped a dial on his pip-boy. Dean's radio resumed playing its music. Six pressed another dial, a hiss of static. "Got him. Headed back now."

* * *

_Until next time._


	5. Chapter 4: In My Footsteps

_So, while playing through this mission - something really interesting happened. I'm going to implement it later. I was going to include it in this chapter...but I thought it would fit better somewhere else. I won't spoil it for you all though. This chapter is primarily dialogue. For your action happy people, don't fret too much. The next chapter will have a bit of action in it, and Chapter 7 - which will be posted on the 22nd - will have quite a bit of action in it.  
_

* * *

"What's your story, beautiful?" Dean's yellow grin sent shivers down Christine's spine. She narrowed her eyes. "Don't…uh…talk much, do you?" Christine raised a brow and turned to Six. She flipped a Sierra Madre chip to him.

Perplexed, Six examined the chip.

"It's counterfeit," Veronica told him. "She made a small fortune from the scrap metal she gathered around the station. We should go out, collect some supplies."

Six nodded in approval, "Let's contact Elijah first. See what our next course of action should be."

"Have you heard anything from him?" Veronica asked, hopeful.

Six shook his head, "Not a peep since we found Dog in the cell."

"Oh," she sank slightly, in disappointment. Christine narrowed her eyes and her body language flipped one-hundred eighty degrees - she frowned at Veronica. "Look…I know we both have reason to be angry with him…but maybe he has the right idea. You can't help but notice that the Brotherhood is like an urban myth to the people of the Mojave. No real presence on the outside. We just don't adapt like we should. Sure, he's a little eccentric…but you can't forget he's the man who practically single-handedly made sure I was taken care of after my parents were killed."

Christine narrowed her eyes, she made some complex hand motions and drew a line between herself and Veronica.

"I know…I know," She took Christine's hands into her own. "He's a stubborn old man…but he's the closest thing to a grandfather I've ever had. I can't just push that aside for some childish vendetta."

Christine pulled away. She crossed her arms and looked to the ground. Veronica reached for her again – and again she pulled away. She cast a glance at Six for a moment, then disappeared around the corner. Veronica stepped in her direction, but Six caught her with a hand on her shoulder. "Give her some time, Vee…she's obviously had it rough. A lot on her plate right now."

Veronica dropped into a nearby chair. "Well…let's see what Elijah has to say."

"Where are Boone and God?" Six asked. "I don't want to contact the old man and…send God back to the cage against his will."

"They went out to test Christine's chip. Should be back soon." She cut off the jamming signal.

Six briefly nodded, then spoke into his pip-boy, "We've got everyone."

"You do?" The old man's voice sounded vaguely surprised. "Good…now for your parts in this. Sinclair…the owner of the Sierra Madre linked the security to the Gala Event itself."

"Gala Event?" Six repeated.

"Yes…a display of lights…fireworks. Music in the streets. A prewar festival…marking the casino's grand opening. To open the casino doors, you'll need to trigger the Event. But that will require team effort. I've marked locations on your pip-boy. Now…the first thing you'll want to do is to take the FEV reject to southern Salida del Sol. There you'll find a switching substation. The switches there will fire off the pyrotechnics for the Gala Event…the FEV reject is the only one with the strength to pull the switches. They're two hundred years old…in that time, they've rusted. The cloud has eroded them."

Six checked his pip-boy, quickly marking a waypoint. "Got it. Anything else?"

"The outlying areas of the villa are far more dangerous. Heavy with the fog, riddled with traps, and crawling with the villa's inhabitants. If you are to break in, you'll have to tread carefully. The riches that await…"

Veronica's head cocked to the side. "What? You said you needed our help to release you from the casino…" Verona's voice sounded confused.

"Ah…yes. This is more than a rescue mission. This is a heist of the centuries. The Sierra Madre won't let its secrets go easily, and I wouldn't expect anything less. Do not fail me. You've come so far. I'd hate to have to wait for another team. We're making history…we're plundering history. The technology here is incredible, the good it could do. The Brotherhood would become dominate again. Far more advanced than the Enclave ever was. More powerful than the NCR."

Veronica sank further into her chair. "That's the same thing you said at Helios One."

The old man was quiet for a long moment, then the radio crackled again – "Perhaps you think this is a simple robbery. A cheap casino heist. No…this is a heist of the centuries. We're not plundering the Sierra Madre – we're plundering the Old World itself. The possibilities of the security holograms alone are invaluable. Imagine…soldiers impervious to gunfire, energy weapons, and attack. The vending machines can be programmed and reprogrammed. Giving us an infinite supply of whatever we require. The people of the wasteland would depend on us not only to protect them, but to provide for them. Our days of hiding would be over. _We_ could become the dominant force on the West coast again."

Veronica stayed silent. A sigh sounded from the other end of the pip-boy. "Trigger the Gala Event. Open the Casino. I'll contact you once you're inside." A click, then silence.

Veronica flipped the radio switch – turning the jamming signal back on. "When we find him…promise me you won't hurt him," Veronica's eyes were wide with despair.

Six smiled, "Of course."

"Maybe he's right. Maybe this is the change the Brotherhood has been waiting for."

"It sounds to me like he's gone mad," Dean mumbled under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Veronica flew on the defensive.

"Look," Dean justified. "It's not like I'm saying this _Elijah_ has had a lobotomy. It's just that triggering the Gala Event is tantamount to suicide. We trigger that event and the ghost people are going to flood the streets. Normally there's only a few. Maybe a pack. But believe me, there's more out there…_a lot more_. Triggering that event will be like shaking a hornet's nest."

"If we don't trigger it, he won't let us leave," Six retorted.

"Well, considering my life's on the line, I believe I should have a say in the matter. Running crazy through town – when every inch of the town is potentially lethal – isn't a good idea. We need to take it slow…_real slow_," Dean grimaced. "We need to get in without attracting attention. To go in real quiet…if the ghost people drag you off into the cloud, you won't come back out. You trigger that event and the town is going to be overrun. They stay beneath the streets…you think you've seen a lot? You haven't seen anything. There aren't enough bullets in town to deal with them…or enough chips to produce the bullets you'd need. So unless you're a real good shot, save one…for yourself. Right before they catch you."

"I'm a pretty decent shot," Boone and God stood in the open doorway. "One shot, one kill. That's my way of handling things." He turned to Six, tossing him a super-stim. "The machines sell super-stims, stims, steady, .308, .357. A whole slew of materials."

Six raised a brow. "But I don't have a .308."

"What do you have?" Dean asked, eyeing the carbine draped across Six's shoulder.

"5.56 – I have my twenty gauge, but I have no ammunition for it at all. And this little beauty here," Six withdrew Lucky.

Dean smiled his yellow smile. ".357? They're not particularly effective against the ghost people. Your shotgun on the other hand," Dean examined the shotgun dangling at Six's hip. "It certainly looks _sturdy_ enough. And you're in luck. Around the Villa, I've hidden _caches_. And 20 gauge, though not readily available here, is readily available on the outside and very common. The key is to wait on the tourists to turn on each other…then you make use of what they've brought in."

"_Caches_?"

"Of course. Every now and then I needed to leave the safety of the little abode you found me in to find supplies…and I don't like to take chances. So I left weapons and stims in various areas _just in case_. I suppose this qualifies as an _emergency_…so you're free to help your grubby mitts to anything I have stowed away."

"I need you to go out and collect those supplies."

Dean laughed, "Me? Oh, I don't think so. The villa's dangerous. I'm not going anywhere on my own."

"Then I'll go with you," Veronica said, standing. "Christine and I."

"And just where _praytell_ are you going?" Dean asked Six.

Six looked at God. "I have to get you to the switching substation in Salida del Sol."

God scowled. "You can lead me to water…No. I don't think so. That substation is in the middle of the courtyard in southern Salida del Sol. I've been there. I recall. We trigger the event and the lights start flashing and sirens start screaming…I can survive one or two of the inhabitants. But more than that…and even Dog would run, tail tucked between his legs."

"We trigger that event, we get inside the casino."

God's scowl faded. "And to the old man. So the Gala Event is key…and the key. As much as it pains me to admit it…if we're going to be fighting, it will be best to bring Dog out. But when we get there…you'll give me control. Or I'll make you pay in blood."

"What makes Elijah so important to you? What has he done to make you so angry?" Veronica asked defensively.

"_Angry? Angry doesn't even begin to describe the hate I feel inside. It's all consuming, twisting every thought to red_. The old man has Dog gather others. _Drag_ them here…fetching like an animal. He has Dog hurt them if they resist. And the child doesn't even blink – he doesn't hear the cries when he twists their arms full circle. Listening to him command Dog to hurt others…while Dog just nods, eager and willing to please _Master_. Meanwhile, I try to protect Dog…and he _resents_ me. Locks me in the cage. Hurts himself to silence me…I've watched over Dog for so long. Tried to stop him from hurting others…_from killing them_. He doesn't understand…he has the brain of a child. He knows when he's done wrong…_he just can't help himself._" God was practically growling. "And all of this. All for your precious Elijah. A fool who flew too high. Icarus. Trying to hold the sun in his hands. Arrogant fool."

Veronica said nothing – though Six could feel the tension coming off of her. She did not like _God_. Dog she could tolerate, perhaps even find a fondness for. But this personality…she detested. She cast God a glare before disappearing around the same corner Christine had.

The nightkin sighed. "_Let's get this over with_."

* * *

The streets winded through red smog. Six, Boone, and Dog carefully explored Salida del Sol. "Where are you taking Dog? Dog not want to go."

"We have to go to the switching substation, Dog."

"Hard to pull things? Dog has to pull very very hard to…are we going there? Dog not want to stay and pull things…hard to do, and cage there…want to go back to fountain. Woman in fountain is made of lines and light…pretty to watch. Dog want to go back and watch."

"The Master wants you to go to the substation, Dog."

"Master good to Dog. Master take care of Dog, protects Dog. _Feeds Dog_. Master lets Dog do what Dog wants and makes other voices go away. Dog go with you. Place with hard to pull things this way." The nightkin took point. "Follow Dog. Dog know the way."

Six and Boone followed step. Boone occasionally stopped to disarm a bear trap, or to point out a pressure plate or trip wire. Around them, ghost people peppered the roof tops. Warily watching them – eager to pounce. But they didn't – for some reason they showed restraint.

"They're learning…" Six realized, speaking aloud.

"What?" Boone whispered back.

"Remember how they swarmed the three of us last time?"

"Yeah."

"Look at them now. Even the big ones. They're circling above us. But not attacking."

"I don't see a problem with that."

"Maybe…"

They marched on. Boone would occasionally take a shot at one of the inhabitants that wandered too close. If his shot was not lethal – they would quickly retreat. A feeling of trepidation came over Six._ What are they doing?_

"Dog is getting tired. When can Dog eat?"

"Soon, Dog. Soon." Six told him.

Before long, they arrived at the station. Dog lumbered ahead of them. "Place with hard to pull things over here!" He stopped shortly before entering. "Dog not go in, cause is cage. Dog not want to be locked up."

"No one is going to lock you in, Dog."

"Dog doesn't understand…too hungry, hard to hear words…Master, when can Dog feed?"

"Yeah, I don't have time for this. Sorry, buddy." Six flipped through his pip-boy menu.

"Dog! Back in the cage!"

Immediately the nightkin's personality flipped. "So here we are, a row of switches all lined up. How familiar. These switches won't move themselves after all…Now that I'm here, what do you expect me to do."

"I need you to wait here. For my signal. And then to activate the fireworks."

"You could have just as easily instructed Dog to do so."

"I need to know it's going to be done right. I need someone I can trust."

"_Trust_? Trust is a complicated thing…I believe what you're looking for is _mutual need_. Fine. I can help…arghh" The nightkin clutched its stomach.

Boone stepped back, rifle at the ready. Six quickly pushed his rifle down. "What's wrong?"

"I can feel _him_. Tearing at my insides…clawing to get out."

"Dog?"

"Of course, who do you think? If you want my help, you're going to have to go hunting. He needs to be fed. Didn't you let him feed on the way here?"

"No…What the hell am I supposed to feed him?"

"Idiot! I should end you…if you weren't wearing that collar..aghh!" God stumbled back into the fence, breathing heavily. "The inhabitants…while he doesn't prefer their taste to…other flesh…it'll do. Kill them…discretely, _and quickly_…"

Six turned to Boone. "You picked off a couple on the way here. Think you can find their remains?"

"Yeah," Boone eyed the nightkin. "Might be safer for you to tag along."

"No…I'll stay here. Get back as soon as you can. Stay low and out of sight…they might attack you on your own." Six tossed Boone his machete.

Boone gave a brief nod and began back tracking.

"Brave…foolish, but brave. If Dog's hunger gets strong enough to take control he may not be able to resist tearing into your warm flesh."

"I trust Boone. He'll get back on time."

"You'd better hope so. Why'd you stay behind?"

"To talk," Six flipped through his pip-boy – turning on the jamming signal. "Veronica has made me promise not to kill Elijah."

God frowned. "Then you'd better kill me before I find him."

Six shook his head. "I don't think you're following me. That senile bastard had Dog wrap a god damned explosive collar around my neck. Took us hostage. And she wants me to spare him. Fine. I won't kill him."

A vicious grin spread across the nightkin's face. "So you want me to."

"The man has to be stopped. It's not just a matter of vengeance. It's a safety concern. How many people has he brought here? Condemned to death? No. He has to be stopped."

"Justify it however you like. The fact of the matter is you want him dead. You want retribution. You just have some code of honor that prevents you from taking matters into your own hands. I'm okay with that. Leave the old man to me."

In the distance a cry of pain, the distinct sound of a rifle. Then silence.

* * *

_Next chapter - More development with Christine and Veronica. The title of the next chapter "Mixed Signals" is a double entendre. You'll see why. This chapter was a little shorter than what the others have been recently. I had included some other information originally, but I've decided to use it at the beginning of the next chapter. I liked the cliffhanger ending better._

_Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
_


	6. Chapter 5: Mixed Signals

_This chapter slows down in the middle a bit, but it picks back up at the end. Not so much in action as in drama. I think you all should enjoy it. Christine is a very difficult character to write - but I think I'm growing fond of her. But Graham is the character that I really can't wait to get to. Anyway, enjoy._

* * *

The villa was a labyrinth. Boone winded through the streets, careful to stay out of sight. He stopped briefly to observe his surroundings. He found himself in a familiar area – the buzz of a nearby vending machine filled the air. He briefly stopped to examine graffiti next to the machine – Cloud Kills Fast or Slow Gets us ALL.

A short distance before him was a arch – burrowing between two of the villa's residences. The tunnel was thick with the cloud. Boone couldn't see through it – but he remembered taking a shot at one above the pass. He clasped his hand over his mouth and approached the fog; then he heard it, the click of his collar activating. He bolted into the cloud – a sharp pain consumed his leg. He collapsed to the ground. His collar began to beep – he fumbled in red-blindness, grasping at his calf. A bear trap. He felt for Six's machete; grasping in darkness. His lungs burned – the collar's beeping quickened. Then he found it – wedging the blade between the steel teeth, he twisted – narrowly jerking his leg free as the steel trap clamped shut. He rolled forward out of the fog, searching frantically for the source of the signal interference.

Sparks! Above him, a malfunctioning speaker. He reached for his sidearm – a stainless steel snub, black handled 12.7mm pistol. He shot twice in quick succession. The sound reverberated off the walls; merging the sound and amplifying it exponentially. The sound attracted one of the larger ghost people – a trapper. Boone saw the creature bound from one roof to another, vigilantly approaching him. He aimed again – but the creature was too fast. Leaping to and fro, closing the distance between them remarkably quickly.

Boone grasped the machete and waited – it leaped high into the air, Boone quickly rolled to the side. It brought its fist into the ground with incredible force. Boone whipped the machete around, removing the creature's arm at the elbow. It stood, wailing in pain – green liquid spraying from the severed limb. Boone posed for another attack – but the creature collapsed to its knees, a gurgling sound filled the air around him. Then it doubled over, going limp, and toppled to the ground. Boone immediately cast his eyes to the rooftops. The other creatures tilted their heads and slowly withdrew. He made his way to his feet – glancing down at the brute. He tapped it with his leg. Nothing. Yet, it was still breathing. He raised the machete high into the air and brought it down with a nauseating thud.

He rounded the corner, dragging the headless corpse of the trapper. He was limping, the unquestionable imprints of steel teeth around his calf.

"What the hell happened?"

"Bear trap."

"And the shot?"

"Speaker."

Six retrieved the super-stim Boone had given to him just hours earlier. "Want me to…?"

"No," Boone took it, removing the leather strap and placing it into his mouth. Then he jammed the needle into his leg. He hissed in pain, momentarily dropping his rifle to the ground for support – leaning on it. "These things always get me sick."

"We'll need to stop by the villa clinic on the way back."

"No," Boone stood, color slightly drained from his face. "I'm good."

God looked down at the immense husk of the former ghost person. "You're quite good at fetching…perhaps the Old Man would be willing to make a trade. Take you and let Dog go."

"Right," Boone sneered. "Not going to happen."

God laughed, a fearsome, guttural sound. "This should keep him where he belongs. For now. I'll wait…send the signal, we'll be ready."

* * *

Dean dropped several boxes of ammunition on the police station desk. "Don't say I never did anything for you," He said in his thick accent. "Just over seventy shots. Use them sparingly."

Six packed the ammunition into his bag, save two shells – which he used to load his shotgun. He spoke: "Elijah?"

Silence.

"Elijah, the nightkin is in position. What's our next step?"

The radio hissed to life. "…The next step will be to travel to the switching station in southern Puesta del Sol. You'll need someone who's adept with terminals and relays. Is Veronica with you?"

"I'm here, Elijah."

"You've always been good with technology. I fear you are the only one who can do this. You _must_ succeed."

Veronica's breathing was shallow. "Of course, Elijah."

"Be careful, Veronica…I'd hate…"

Six interrupted, "Whoa whoa. Another switching station? I don't think I'm comfortable leaving her exposed like that."

"You left the FEV reject at a _substation_. This is the central plant – the station itself. It will be enclosed, you will be inside. But don't go in thinking you're safe. The area will be littered with radio interference and toxins."

"But no ghost people?"

"They tend not to venture into the buildings. Who knows why? Superstition? Fear? The reason is of no importance. Once you're inside – once you have activated the ventilation and cleared out the fog. Once you have disarmed any traps. She will be safe."

"What kind of tra…"

The pip-boy clicked – signaling the end of the transmission.

"God damnit!" Six turned to Veronica. "I don't like this, Vee."

She smiled, "Aw. Protecting me? I've never had a big brother."

"I'm serious. It's one thing to leave that god damned beast out on its own. But I'm not going to leave you."

"I can take care of myself," she smiled and grasped Christine's hand. "Besides, I won't be by myself."

Christine stepped forward, motioning towards Six's pip-boy. He extended his arm. She carefully examined it – flipping it back and forth carefully. Then, she stabbed at the dials and buttons with her fingers. She pulled up the map and examined the marker the old man had placed; zooming in at the station. She pointed towards the door.

"Shall we?" Veronica asked, a smile across her face.

Boone stood, painfully clutching his leg, "I'm going with you."

Six shook his head. "No, you're in no shape to come with us." He leveled his eyes on Dean. "Take him to the villa clinic. Get him in an autodoc. I'll meet you both there shortly."

Dean scowled. "One of the locals catches us, we aren't coming back."

"If that man isn't at 100%, we all die, it won't be a matter of if. It'll be a matter of when," Six countered.

"Fine," Dean steadied Boone, pulling one arm over his shoulder. "I'll get him to the clinic. But you'd better hurry."

* * *

The inside of the station was cold. Veronica shuddered in her robes – Six quickly removed his duster and offered it to her. She declined it graciously. Six made his way further into the room – his collar began to beep. He quickly flipped through his pip-boy and played the jamming signal. The collar's beeping was replaced with faint static.

"Door's locked."

Christine looked around the room – she walked to an old fuse box on the wall. Someone had long ago painted a heart on it; it was fading with age. She opened it and turned to Veronica – brow raised.

Veronica half-jogged to the box and peered inside. "Oooh, this isn't good. We're going to need some new fuses…three at least."

"Are you serious?"

She grinned. "Not at all. I can reroute it in no time. Give me a second."

Six's collar started to beep again. He backed away from the door until it stopped. Christine eyed him, slowly opening her palm and closing it.

"I know, I know. It slows the signal, it doesn't stop it."

She pressed her lips in a tight smile and raised both of her brows.

"That should do it."

Six walked towards the door again – his collar resumed playing static. He twisted the door control; it spun open. Immediately in front of him was more graffiti – tick tick tick. It had an arrow pointing up and to his right. He followed the arrow and saw the speaker. He withdrew Lucky and fired. Christine held her ears as the echo of the shot reverberated throughout the station. "Takes care of that."

They made their way down the twisting corridor; Six made short work of two more speakers. Then they entered a cavernous area – filled with pipes, destroyed walkways, various machinery, and rubble. The cloud blanketed the bottom. Christine eyed the fog timidly, then pantomimed walking with her index and middle fingers and shook her head.

"No way we can find our way through that if we go down there," Veronica agreed. "But…" she inspected the pipes. "Those look like ventilation. I'd wager a few caps that there's a terminal somewhere inside to clear out this gas."

"No terminals back the way we came," Six said softly.

"Has to be further in, then."

Six stepped towards the guard rails, gazing down into the blood red cloud. He breathed deeply then looked across the room. A set of stairs were directly across from him. His eyes followed a large pipe in the center of the room. He turned back to the two women who had been following his gaze, and apparently his train of thought.

"You can't be serious…"

Christine reached out, grabbing Six's hand. She nervously shook her head.

He smiled at her, placed his free hand on top of hers then looked at Veronica. "You all stay here. When the fog clears, come find me." Then he turned and jumped. The fall was further than what he'd anticipated – he crashed onto the pipe stomach first, folding over it. Christine turned away. He clawed and gripped at the pipe until he regained his composure. He was just above the fog's level – but he could feel it stinging his lungs. He carefully treaded the pipe, each step causing pain to pulsate and thud throughout his torso. He held his arms out to maintain balance. Once he had made his way across, he disappeared into the fog. Christine and Veronica scanned the fog, but saw no movement.

"Hey!" Six yelled, standing on the walkway across from them. "Give me a second. I'll find the terminal." Six ventured further into the station – following signs labeled "Utility". Then he saw it – a massive mainframe and a wall mounted terminal. He approached it. "Please don't be locked…please don't be locked."

**-Ventelation Control System-**

‹**Warning: The ventelation system should only be taken down for routine maintenance.›**

‹**Activate Ventilation System›**

He selected the option. Immediately the sound of heavy machinery kicking on filled the air. He turned to his right, opening another door. He stepped forward and his collar immediately began emitting static.

"God damnit…" he searched the walls. A speaker was shortly before him, to his left. He pulled up his rifle and fired. His collar continued to hiss. "What the hell?"

He stepped closer, firing again. This time, there was return fire. Not from the speaker, but from deeper within the room. Six ducked back, taking cover behind the wall. Glancing around, he saw it – a massive turret stationed at the center of the room. The very moment he poked his head around the corner, it started firing again.

"Son of a bitch!" He ducked back around the corner.

"What is it?" the familiar sound of Veronica's voice asked.

"God damn turret," he glanced at her. "Any bright ideas?"

"Have you shot at it?"

Christine stepped forward, plunging a syringe of Med-X into Six's torso.

"Ow!" He rubbed his chest, "What the hell?" Christine raised a brow and pointed to his chest. Six turned his attention back to Veronica. " you seen it? It's huge."

Veronica peeked around the corner. Again the turret started firing.

"That's the same kind the Brotherhood uses," she confirmed. "We're not going to take that out without some type of plasma or pulse weaponry."

"Maybe it can be deactivated?"

Veronica pursed her lips. "Maybe…but we can't get in there."

Christine raised a hand, eyes shifting from Veronica and Six sporadically. Then she drew a line between them, took aim with an imaginary gun and weaved back and forth.

Veronica grinned, "Right! It can't shoot at both of us. We can split up."

Six shook his head. "Path only goes in two directions. There's a speaker that way," he pointed to it. "And it's impervious to fire."

"Then it has to be controlled by a terminal somewhere. We'll have to shut it down."

"Great," Six took a deep breath. "Left or right?"

Veronica peeked around the corner – the turret had since ceased its pursuit and was casually scanning the room.

"I'll go right…see if I can figure out how to get to that turret. You take Christine…go straight through that door…" she pointed ahead of them. "Once you're in, wait for me to deactivate the turret."

Six nodded. He turned to Christine, gripping her hand with his own. "Alright, here goes nothing."

The turrets attention was back on them in an instant. Six weaved left – running towards the speaker. Veronica bobbed right and yelled in pain as one of the turret's lasers caught her shoulder. She toppled over the railing. Christine stopped, attempting to go back, but Six held on tight. "She's alive. If she was dead, believe me, we'd know." His collar hissed with dissatisfaction at his proximity to the speaker. Once at the door he reached out and attempted to turn the dial. It wouldn't budge.

"Oh, you're fucking joking." Six fumbled through his pouch, retrieving a few bobby pins and a screwdriver. Fighting with the lock – the static faded and was replaced by a faint beeping. "C'mon…." The first bobby pin broke. Then the second. The beeping grew quicker, louder. Christine swiped the tools from his hands and took over. Within moments the door was open. She eyed the terminal.

"No time." Six grabbed her hand again and lead her through the room around the corner. The beeping stopped, but now they were facing the turret. As it began to power up, a whirring noise filled their ears. Six grabbed Christine folding over her protectively and turning his back on the turret. It fired once, sending a sharp pain up Six's spine – then it went silent. Six looked at the machine, it limply aimed at the catwalk. Across the way, Veronica poked her head out of a small enclosed area.

"Got it!"

Six half smirked, "Yeah…"

The group rendezvoused at the marker on Six's pip-boy. Or rather, Six and Christine trekked there and Veronica made her way to them. Six cut the signal on his pip-boy.

"We're in position."

"Good," Elijah's voice chimed in. "Now, the controls we need to activate are in the stations lower levels. Veronica…you'll need to go down via the maintenance elevator. Once you're down there, wait. I'll contact you via the terminal to let you know how to proceed." The pip-boy clicked and fell silent.

Veronica turned to Six. "Got a little singed there."

He pulled his duster around, examining it. "Son of a bitch…"

Veronica smilled. "Well…I'm going to go down and have a look." She turned to Christine. "See you when I get back up?"

Christine nodded and stepped forward. Taking Veronica's hands into her own, she embraced her with a passionate kiss. Veronica disappeared into the elevator.

Six turned to Christine. "Just give me a shout if you need anything."

She narrowed her eyes.

"I'm joking!"

She smiled somberly and nodded.

"Look…I'll tell you what. We'll set up a system. One snap for yes, two snaps for no."

She smiled again, a little more genuine and shook her head.

"Okay. Okay. Nodding and elaborate hand motions is better than snapping. I get it."

Her face wrinkled and her smile broadened.

"There we go. That's more like it. Your smile is far too pretty to hide from the world."

She opened her mouth, as if to speak…then became somber again, dropping her gaze to the ground.

"Hey," Six extended his hand, pushing her gaze up to meet his own. "We'll fix this. I promise."

Christine half grinned, though her eyes were still sorrowful. She took a step towards Six, giving him a warm embrace. Then sat at the desk behind her. She looked at Six, tapped her wrist, and pointed towards the door. Six gave a quiet nod and began to make his way back across the snaky catwalks. He stopped briefly at a terminal – next to it was a key. He lifted the key, inspecting it. Then sat at the terminal. Booting it up, he found a text document.

"Sinclair ordered a new set of chemical suits from Big Mountain so we could venture into the ventilation chambers and see what the source of this cloud cocktail is. The suits are kind of creepy looking to be honest…and it's difficult to talk in them. We had to resort to using sign language. But at least now we can check out the pipes. If only we'd had these a few weeks ago when this all started. Ennis wouldn't be holed up at the clinic right now in critical condition. The gas really did a number on him. He should be back on his feet soon though. He keeps leaving his key lying around. So if I'm not on duty when he gets back see that he gets it. I've put one of the suits in his locker. And guys; don't go filling his locker full of Dandy Boy Apples again."

Six pocketed the key. "Hey!" He turned to see Veronica. "We have a problem."

"Problem?"

"I can't fit into the maintenance area. It's really cramped, and I can't get in there and move well enough to work on what we need done. Christine's small enough...but..."

"…She's claustrophobic. Shit…"

"Exactly."

"…Fuck. And there's no way we can convince her to go down there?"

"I tried…the autodoc incident has her pretty upset. She's trying to reroute the system though, to access it from the terminal near the elevator."

"And that'll work?"

"If she can hack the mainframe."

They made their way back to Christine – who was angrily punching keys on the terminal.

"Any luck?"

Christine scowled.

"Let me try," Veronica suggested.

Christine shrugged her off. "Look, I know you've always been better with tech, but this whole situation has you frustrated. You're not on top of your game. _Let me try_." Veronica placed a hand on her shoulder. Christine sighed and pushed herself away from the terminal, vacating the seat. Veronica sat and pulled herself to it.

Christine folded her arms and stormed off. Veronica stood, but Six shook his head. "We need to get this done. Don't worry, I got her," he said, falling in line behind her. "You get that terminal rerouted."

Christine was back in the room with the speaker terminal before Six was able to catch her. She furiously typed at the keys – her collar beeping quickly. Six initiated the jamming signal – but as he did the static fell quiet. She turned to him; lips pursed, she held her hands out, palms up.

"I don't doubt your ability."

She huffed, folding her arms and looking to the ground again.

"I don't think Veronica does either. You know what I don't get though?"

She looked at him.

"I don't get why the autodoc would shave your head."

She furrowed her brow, rubbed her hand across her scalp, and shook her head.

"Oh," Six said drolly, "You mean you shaved your _own_ head. Maybe something is wrong with you, then."

Christine's lips twitched, briefly curling into a fading smile. She used her index finger as a drawing instrument and sketched out a symbol in the air in front of her.

"So you were a scribe then?"

She nodded, looking slightly impressed.

Six smiled at her, but his smile was short lived. "Look..." he began with a sigh, "I know you're afraid. But if we can't reroute this, we need you to go down there."

Christine shook her head, stepping back. She averted her gaze from Six's.

"Hey," he took her hand into his own. "I promise you, there's nothing to be afraid of. I'm not going to leave you down there. But I can't do this without you."

She swallowed, eyes welling slightly. Then squeezed Six's hand with her own.

He smiled at her. "That a girl." Six turned to leave, but she didn't budge. He turned back to her and she stepped forward, lightly locking her lips around Six's. He immediately pulled away. She looked at him, suddenly aware of her actions. Then she stepped forward and laid her head against his chest and sighed. He let his eyes wander and rested his hand on the back of her neck. Then they began making their way back towards the elevator…and Veronica.

As they approached Veronica, she looked up from the terminal. "I don't know what else to do. This thing is locked down tight."

Christine placed a hand on Veronica's shoulder and walked towards the elevator. Veronica followed suit. Christine embraced her with a kiss, then cast Six one last glance before climbing into the elevator. She turned to Veronica, pointed down, and gave a thumbs up.

* * *

_We're about halfway through Aces & Eights! Hopefully you're all enjoying it as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Until next time, thanks for reading!_


	7. Chapter 6: Strike Up The Band

_Good news. To get myself back on schedule my next chapter will be posted tomorrow night. This chapter was difficult to write. Mostly because it doesn't make sense to me. I mean...Elijah had Dean on the roof holding two wires together. You could have put a pan of water down to the same effect. Or just spliced it. I can see why Dean was so aggravated with it all. But, I've done my best to try to come up with a reason why someone had to be up on the roof with a wire. If it's not convincing enough, forgive me. I started writing at 2am. Cause I forgot that I was supposed to do a chapter tonight._

_Also, I've bumped the rating down to a T (for Aces & Eights, not A Courier's Tale), because I do not foresee any sex scenes or overtly mature themes happening in the last six chapters of Aces & Eights. A Courier's Tale has a bit more stuff coming up. Although I doubt if I'll have as much detail as I did last time._

Hopefully I didn't totally botch this chapter. Enjoy?  


* * *

Dean and Boone threw open the doors to the villa clinic. Behind them, a slew of ghost people swarmed the street. Boone slammed the door shut, immediately pulling a nearby sofa and pressing it against the door. Dean veered left, climbing the stairs and vanishing from sight. "What the hell?"

Dean didn't respond. He scrambled to the back entrance of the clinic – pushing a nearby book shelf over in front of it. Then, he turned his attention to a terminal on the wall.

The door splintered and the couch pulsated with every thump on the door. A spear shot through, hitting its mark – slicing Boone's shoulder open. Another thump and an arm shot through. Boone withdrew Six's machete and began to whale on the creatures arm. Another arm shot through, grabbing Boone by the neck and shoving him to the ground. The door splintered open sending the couch toppling forward – one of the larger hooded ones stepped forward. In its hand it had some type of gas tank – it raised it in the air.

A beam of bright red light shot across the room – connecting with the tank. The tank immediately detonated – taking at least three of the inhabitants with it. Boone couldn't tell…parts were flying everywhere. He turned behind him – half expecting to see Dean with a laser pistol...but these beams were different. Instead he saw a hologram, much like the others but of a fierce crimson color – calmly walking towards the inhabitants, blasting them with some light based weaponry. The ghost people retreated into the villa – sparsely looking back at the hologram as they did. The hologram returned to its normal shade of blue, approached the door and stopped. It watched outside for a long second, then turned. That's when it saw Boone, hunkered down behind the overturned couch in the center of the room. The color changed again – yellow this time. But it didn't fire. It stood there, watching. Boone took a deep breath…he attempted to stand, and it turned red. It fired once – the beam of light connecting with Boone's chest – and he collapsed into darkness.

* * *

The autodoc door opened with a groan. Boone stepped out, lightly placing weight on his leg. It objected with a streak of pain for a moment – then quickly adjusted. The autodoc had done its job wonderfully. Dean sat on a nearby stretcher, casually thumbing through some prewar book – DC Journal Of Internal Medicine.

"Where the hell did you run off to?"

Dean looked up from the book. "Where? To save our lives. Of course."

"The hologram? That was you?"

"Yours truly," Dean tipped an imaginary hat.

"Did you know that thing would attack me?" Boone was furious.

"Yeah…but the ghost people wouldn't have attacked you. They would have _killed_ you. Should we attempt to catch up with the others now or do you want to continue this game of twenty questions?"

As the elevator doors closed and Christine disappeared from site, Six felt a wave of tension lift off his chest. He casually rolled the key to Ennis's locker between his fingers.

* * *

"How'd you talk her into going down there?"

Six frowned. "It wasn't easy…but I have a certain charm."

"I've noticed. You're a regular lady killer," Veronica smiled. "But don't get any bright ideas," she tapped Six's face with her index finger lightly. "She's mine."

Six returned an uneasy grin. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"What's that?" Veronica asked, nodding to the key in Six's hand.

"Goes to a locker. I saw a set, back in the room with the terminal that activated the ventilation system."

"Think there'll be anything useful in it?"

"Not sure, but I aim to find out."

Ennis' locker jerked open with a sudden bang; despite the fact that Six had used the key, the locker was rusted shut. It took a considerable amount of force to pry it open. Inside the hazmat suit hang eerily – the eyepieces glowing neon yellow, with an equally bright green ring surrounding the yellow center. Six pulled the suit from the locker, inspecting it closely before thrusting it into his bag. As he retraced his footsteps throughout the station – his mind kept lingering back to that uncouth moment with Christine – on one hand, he really did like Veronica. She was easy to talk to and one of the few women Six had met since awaking at Goodsprings that he felt he could really trust. On the other hand…could she trust him? He wasn't entirely sure. He began backtracking through the station.

The pip-boy hissed to life. "Your next stop is a rooftop in southern Puesta del Sol. The speakers power cable runs across the roof. But the cable is cut. You'll need to splice it. Take Collar 14. Persuade him to stay there, to merge the wires…any way you have to."

"Can't I just splice the wires and leave?" Six was speaking loudly – as he had entered the room that had previously been filled with the cloud. The ventilation fans that lined the walls noisily interrupted him at every opportunity. Some of them creaked and howled with discomfort. It was clear they had not been used in a very, very long time.

"No…the problem is, once those wires are connected, the speakers will immediately sound. You'll only have moments to activate the Gala Event from the bell tower at that point. The speakers will not draw enough power on their own to deactivate the casino's defense system. But they won't play long either. Once they're reactivated, you must start the Event." Elijah's voice was tantamount to a whisper.

"Say I take collar 14 there. He doesn't have a pip-boy. How will he know when to begin?"

"I've been modifying my own pip-boy. I should be able to relay a message through his collar. When you get to the bell tower you'll give me the go ahead, and I'll contact the others."

Six pressed his thumbs into his ears. Simultaneously rubbing his fingers against his temples. "Alright. On my way there now."

* * *

Six stepped out into the street of northern Puesta del Sol. It had been cleared of the thick pockets of the cloud. As he neared the bottom of the grand staircase before the facility, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Instinctively he reached for his sidearm, turned and fired.

Boone pushed the revolver high into the air before Six was able to pull the trigger. Six's eyes widened in surprise.

"How about I point my gun at you a while and see how you like it?" Boone snarled, his vise like grip squeezing Six's wrist.

"Well don't fucking sneak up on me," Six snapped, jerking his arm away.

Boone stiffened. "Sorry. Rough couple of hours."

"I know what you mean…"

"The cloud has mostly cleared throughout the villa. The thick portions of it anyway. The air is definitely more breathable."

Six nodded, "Inside the plant I found a terminal to access the villa's ventilation system. Surprisingly, it still works." He turned to Dean. "Elijah wants you in southern Puesta del Sol. Can you splice wires?"

"What? You want me to stand there holding the two ends together? Maybe tap them like symbols? If we're going there, I'm not staying alone. There are a few holograms that can be activated via terminal. The hologram of Vera kept them out of the square. I imagine others would do the same."

"The hologram in the villa square is Vera? The woman from the broadcast?" Six asked, beginning the journey into southern Puesta del Sol.

"Well, yeah. You don't recognize her? I suppose Vera Keyes was lost along with the hollow archives when the bombs fell. Ghost in name and image now. She's a looker though, isn't she? Nice voice, nice legs, supple breasts…nice ass. Sinclair knew how to pick them…or rather, how to get picked. He built the Sierra Madre for her. It wasn't always a death trap. Once Sinclair had seen her…he was hooked. He couldn't get enough."

Boone seemed to cringe at the notion of love at first site. Six saw a look of pain and remorse shoot across his face briefly – before it returned to its stony foundation.

Dean continued, "I made the introduction…one thing led to another. And here's the kicker…the Sierra Madre broadcast? It's an emergency broadcast. But because the broadcast had been hooked up to the gala event, instead of the emergency signal, you get Vera's voice on the radio. Luring treasure hunters and thrill seekers to their doom."

"Why would Sinclair make Vera's invitation run off the emergency broadcast?"

"Why? Money, my dear boy what else? Sinclair was not opposed to taking shortcuts. That's why the old man wants us to activate the Gala Event. Not everything in the villa was the pinnacle of bright ideas. In order to pull off the Gala, Sinclair had to get creative. The Gala's tied to the casino…draws from its power. Triggering the Gala will cause a massive drain in power. That'll cause the casino's breakers to reset, which – in turn – will cause the security systems to shut down. The question is…for how long? And more importantly, once we're in…how will we get _back out_? When the security reactivates the whole place will close up tighter than your body guard's sphincter." Dean motioned to Boone.

"But my question is…why does the old man want me on that roof? You're definitely better suited for the job. I have no doubt your technical skills…though they may fail in comparison to the silent beauty and her _femme fatal_…they are vastly superior to mine."

Boone shrugged. "Lowest common denominator."

"Excuse me?"

"Holy shit, you're right. It's a simple process of elimination. The nightkin is needed somewhere that requires brute strength." Six's mouth opened lightly in astonishment.

"Lucky for us…if old Doggy boy's job description included smarts we'd be royally jonsed…" Dean quipped.

Six paid him no mind. "Christine…"

"Is that the silent beauty's name? Nice…you can't see it on posters or in lights, but…"

"…and Veronica are taken somewhere terminal and technical skills are vastly important. You? He throws on a roof. You're the odd man out."

"I've had prime billing in Europe. New York! The grandest stage of them all! I can hold an audience, conduct a score from the rooftops! The old man thinks I'm dead weight? The odd man out? He doesn't think I rate? Poor him. It's obvious he's not operating with a full deck."

Six glanced at his pip-boy. Before them stood a large building. At least a story taller than the other buildings throughout the villa. "This is it."

"So this is where my final resting place is to be? I've played better venues, let me tell you. Nice spot for sunning though…well, if sun could penetrate the cloud."

"So where do we activate the security holo…"

"Don't bother," Dean pointed to several black broken spheres on the villa walls. "The hologram emitters. They give the holograms life. Looks like they've been damaged. There's no way I'm going to stay here."

"What if Boone stays with you?" Six asked.

Dean's face contorted a moment before curling with satisfaction. "Well…yeah. You can certainly handle yourself, can't you champ…"

"You want to head out into this villa by yourself? That's not a good idea. Believe me. I know."

"Don't worry. I've got a plan," Six assured him.

Boone sighed. "I'll make my way to the top of this building. From here, I've got a clean view of the rooftop that he'll be on. Even better, there's only one ramp up," he motioned to a building with a gazebo like design perched at the top of it with pagoda style roof

"I didn't agree to it. As I was saying…you look like you can handle yourself. But why should I put my life in your hands?"

"Because I'm former first recon. We have a motto. We're the last thing you never see."

* * *

They were on the roof. "Alright. Elijah is going to contact you first," Six explained. "When he does, you'll put these wires together. That'll start up the speakers. And then I'll activate the Event from the bell tower."

"Sounds like a plan…a bad plan, but a plan."

Six curled his lip. "Is there anything else I should know about the event?"

"Oh, it'll be a grand spectacle. It'll light up the sky! Light up the casino…" Dean's voice became more melodramatic with each word. "…set the speakers in the villa to play beautiful, soothing music! And given the state of the speakers…how they've eroded and been worn down by the cloud. When I say soothing…what I mean is things will be screaming like lambs led to slaughter. It'll be like air raid sirens."

"And that's going to draw in the ghost people."

"You're learning! Yes. It will be like shaking a hornet's nest."

"You keep saying that. What the hell is a hornet?"

"…ah. Flying insect, with a stinger. Nasty creatures…"

"Like a cazador?"

"Casa what? You know what, never mind. Basically, it means it'll be trouble. It'll wake up everything in town. All the inhabitants we've killed. That's not a fraction of how many are here. They're hiding under the street. In the buildings. And when they hear these speakers go off, when they see the lights flashing in the sky…they'll be here. And fast. They'll come out of the woodwork when the Gala Event starts blaring, and when they see me trapped up here? It's curtains for Dean."

"That's where you're wrong. Boone's right over there…" Six turned and pointed. Boone threw up his hand in response. "And he doesn't miss."

"This still sounds risky to me. _For me_. Any change in sound around here…ghost people aren't big on talking, as I'm sure you've noticed. But they're big on listening. On hunting. _On killing._"

"Look. There's no way we'll let anything happen to you. Think about it. The collars. You die. He dies. I die. We all die."

"You got a point…Alright. I'll stay. But you listen to me carefully. Once the Event starts…once the doors to the Sierra Madre swing open. You try to go in without me? I promise you…you'll wish you hadn't."

Six didn't respond. Instead, he turned and retreated into the building. He was nearly out of it when his pip-boy crackled to life.

"Head to the bell tower. I'll contact you when you get there…I hope you're not afraid of heights. It's a long way up."

* * *

_This chapter was originally a little bit longer. But I removed a section of it (regarding Veronica, Christine, and Six triangle) to put in another chapter. I wanted to build up to it a little bit more. It's really late, and I'm very tired. I've given this a couple proof reads, but inevitably some things are going to slip by. Especially when I start writing so late. So if anyone catches any typos or errors, please let me know. Via review or PM. Next chapter will revolve heavily around Elijah and Six (as everyone else is already at their post)._


	8. Chapter 7: Light Up The Skies

_I'd forgotten how short the mission was to start the Gala Event. I got through the mission quickly without really having much to talk about. So I had to improvise...and this was the fruit of my labor. This chapter is short and sweet. It's got a few things in it that I really think you'll all enjoy. That being said - I'll quit boring you with my antics._

Enjoy.

* * *

Six crouched low as he walked through the labyrinth that was the villa; keeping a close eye on his pip-boy to maintain he was headed in the right direction.

"What's in the casino's vault that's so important anyway?" He whispered to the pip-boy.

It crackled to life – "That's the question, isn't it?" Elijah's voice loudly responded. Six ducked behind a nearby trashcan, quickly muting his wrist-bound device, as one of the inhabitants rounded the corner to investigate the noise. It observed the area for what felt like an eternity – standing immobilized, save for the occasional twitch – before moving on. Six turned the volume back up slightly.

"…efits of the vending machines alone are astronomical. The man who built this place, he built it to last."

"Are we talking about the same place? Because from what I've noticed – and from the terminals I've read, it seems to me that the foreman was taking all the shortcuts he could to get this place done as cheaply and quickly as possible. It could have, quite literally, been the biggest con of all time."

"Yet, still, it stands. Surprisingly preserved. Maybe the cloud? I'm not sure. But the technology throughout the casino and villa are unprecedented. One can only imagine what treasures lay wait in the vault."

"What do you intend to do with the treasures?"

"My main interest…as of now…is the vending machines. The machines would breed dependence, loyalty."

"If you just wanted the vending machines you wouldn't need in the vault."

"Resourceful, aren't you? Yes. I'm hoping the vault houses the schematics, the technology behind the machines. I also have a heavy interest in the holograms…which would breed fear and obedience."

Six smirked to himself. "So this is all about power. You want to use the holograms and the vending machines to make people of the Mojave submit to your rule."

Elijah scoffed. "The Mojave? You can't be serious. The Mojave is immaterial. Yes, I intend to take the dam. But that's only the beginning."

Six shook his head slightly to himself. "And if they resist?"

"The cloud leaves little room for resistance."

Six continued to follow the winding streets. "But you can't control the cloud."

"What if I could? What if I told you that I think the cloud is artificial. Something being produced here within the casino. And what if I told you that I think the apparatus responsible for creating it is being stored in the casino's vault."

"What makes you say that?"

"The cloud consists of many natural elements. Heavy metals and various others. But look at the way it clings to the villa. It envelopes the Sierra Madre without ever leaving…without ever moving. No matter the direction of the wind."

"I'd say you were working under a lot of assumptions."

"Assumptions? No. I have the information I need."

"And where did you get this information?"

"The same place that lead me here, to the casino…"

Six cut him off, " And how exactly did you find this place?"

"Ah…Luck. When I realized that Helios One was a lost cause – I set off to find salvation. For the Brotherhood. Something to push back the New California Republic so we could become the dominant force of California again. During my travels I stumbled across an old world research facility – Big Mountain, a crater really. I ran into a courier there. No idea what he was doing there…but he told me about this place. A little bit of digging and I found some records at one of the research stations."

"A courier?"

"Yes. Wore an old world flag on his back. He was searching for someone…I didn't care to press further. I had my own concerns to tend to."

"And this research facility created the red fog?"

"There's a facility there…at Big Mountain. Z-43, it's called. One of the terminal entries there…talked about a...uh, chemical leak...at the Sierra Madre. But…" Elijah trailed off a moment. "Interestingly, the entry said that the the author's superiors were monitoring the 'results'. You don't monitor the results of an accident…the red haze, it's an experiment."

"So you're going to weaponize it…use it to kill innocent people across the entire coast."

"It is a necessary sacrifice, to start over. To begin again."

Six slowed his pace as he neared the top of a staircase and found himself surveying a large courtyard of cobblestone and debris.

"I'm starting to think that it'd be better to let you detonate these collars."

The senile old man laughed. "But you won't. Because even if you do, I'll find someone else. Eventually."

"But you won't be able to put collars on them. Not without Dog. And if you detonate these collars, Dog goes with us."

The old man's voice stiffened. "Yes. Yes, you have a point. And still you trudge on...instead of giving up, instead of trying to escape...instead of quitting. Why is that I wonder?"

Six didn't respond.

"Ah…yes. The mute. Veronica. The mercenary. Because though you might be willing to sacrifice yourself – you're not willing to sacrifice the others."

"How'd you get into the casino?" Six asked, quickly changing the subject.

"What? You think you and your team will be the first to unlock the casino's doors?"

"…No. The mere fact that you're in there means you've had a team succeed before."

"Succeed…maybe. Yes, at first. But after we were in, the casino wouldn't let go. Then the group started bickering among themselves. Fighting. Picking each other off. Before long, I was trapped. Until I picked up your pip-boy signal. Then…uh…then things changed. And here we are."

"Here we are…" Six repeated under his breath. He could hear them. The ghost people. Their wheezing. Their gasps for air that at times almost sounded like laughter. He entered what looked to be a morgue, narrowly missing a bear trap. "Where there are traps…there has to be someone to set them." Lightly in the background, he could still hear Elijah rambling on about a new world. He raised his pip-boy close to his mouth – "Maintaining radio silence. I have company." He turned the pip-boy off with a click.

Six eased his way down the stairs and peeked around the corner. Three of them – patrolling the cellar – swaying their unnatural sway as they walked. Their backs abnormally twisting and bending. With every sickening step, they breathed out – and the green gas escaped their lungs. Six scurried up the stairs, retreating back into the morgue. Searching through his bag, he removed the hazmat suit he'd found in Ennis's locker. He quietly undressed – folding up his duster and lightweight metal armor and carefully placed it into his bag. Then he outfitted himself in the suit. His pip boy…he had to keep it with him. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to contact Elijah at the bell tower.

"This is crazy…this is crazy…" he chanted absentmindedly.

He made his way back down the stairs - leaving his bag and weaponry, save Lucky which he had tucked into the suit.. As he rounded the corner and faced them, the creatures stopped and looked at him. He let his body fall limp and curl on its self. With every step he bent and staggered – twisting across the room. One of the larger ghost people approached him.

Breathing heavily, it examined him. He attempted to walk around it – but it snatched up his arm. It lifted him – much like a child lifts a doll – and examined his pip-boy curiously. Twisting his arm about. The others watched silently. Then it sat him back down, but it did not release his arm. Instead it began to drag him across the cellar. It continued up the stairs and into a room filled with black candles and the decayed remains of someone long dead spread out on a table. The entire scene seemed like something out of a cult. "Maybe the ghost people used to be Vipers," Six thought to himself. "And this is their sacrificial chamber. Great. I'm going to be killed in the name of their holographic Goddess." It let go of him and turned its attention to a broom. It lifted the broom and snapped off the bristled end, then it began to rummage through a nearby dresser. It withdrew four kitchen knives and a roll of duct tape. Six watched with fascination as it deftly began to fasten the knives to the handle. It turned back to him, newly crafted spear in hand…and it lunged.

Six closed his eyes, waiting for impact. But it never came. He opened them again and saw the spear's end mere centimeters from his face. The creature tilted its head to the side – studying him – and stood erect; then, it flipped the spear around, handing it to Six. Six cautiously retrieved the spear from its grasp. It stared at him a long moment then motioned towards the skeleton. Six stared expectantly. It motioned again with a quick thrust. Six swallowed slightly, then turned to the remains. He dove forward, driving the knives through the skeleton's ribcage. The knives cut through the bone like they were made of butter. The creature observed Six for a moment. It seemed pleased and began staggering down the stairs, returning to its patrol in the cellar. Six quickly – or at least, as quickly as he could without arising suspicion – made his way towards the exit.

* * *

"…hear me? Damn transceivers."

"I can hear you. Sorry, I had to sneak by some of the inhabitants. I'm in position." Six responded, standing before a small control panel.

"Excellent. Give me a moment…let me link the collars to the speaker in the tower…there. You can communicate with your team via your pip-boy now. It's time to begin. The skies will open! And so will the casino's doors."

"Is everyone ready?" Six asked.

He heard a quick tap. He smiled, "Christine? One tap for yes?" Another tap. "Vee?"

"Yeah?"

"When it starts, get Christine out of there. Take the elevator up, and make your way to the casino as quickly as you can."

"Got it."

"Isn't that sweet…we're ready. Both of us," God's cold voice growled. "I'll keep Dog locked in his cage."

"Boone? How's Dean looking?"

"All clear. Had to pick off a couple, but it's not been too bad."

"Oh yes, just ask your lapdog how I am. It's not like I can answer for myself. Well what are we waiting for? Strike up the band…Son of a bitch!"

The speakers hissed thick static. Six grabbed a lever on the control panel, propelling it forward. Instantly music began to pour through the speakers. "This music isn't so bad," he thought aloud.

* * *

Through his scope, Boone saw it. One of the creatures perched atop the building, slowly crawling towards Dean. Boone took aim – but felt a fiery pain in his abdomen. He recoiled in agony, flipping around to his back, he found a knife cleanly stuck into the roof beside him. The creature reached around to its back, withdrawing a spear.

"Strike up the band…Son of a bitch!" Boone heard Dean's voice crackle through his collar.

The creature leaped forward. Boone quickly rolled out of the way and situated himself in a defensive stance. It charged, spear extended. Boone ducked to the side and drove his knee into its sternum. It buckled over his knee…but instead of falling, it rolled forward into a cartwheel, safely landing on its feet – still armed and dangerous.

The air around them filled with static.

It swiped at him – forcing Boone to jump back thrice in quick sequence. Then it charged again. This time Boone side stepped, grabbing the spear and shoving it downwards. The blades stabbed into the paved roof. The creature's momentum propelled it forward and it toppled off the building. Boone quickly turned his attention back to Dean. He grabbed his rifle, fell to the ground, and took aim. Crumpled on the ground was the corpse of the creature that had been stalking Dean. The creature jerked and jolted sporadically. Extending from each eye socket…were the electrical wires. Dean had used the creature as an electrical conduit. Dean was nowhere to be found. Boone stood, running his hand through the wound on his side. The knife had cut deep, and he was bleeding pretty heavily. He turned back to the spear – pulling it from the pavement. He quickly made his way down the ramp and off the roof. As he passed the creature that had attacked him, he firmly planted the spear through its skull.

* * *

Six was nearly to the fountain – bag draped around his shoulder. His disguise had proven to be quite beneficial. He pressed on with his comedic routine – staggering back and forth like a drunken feral ghoul. The creatures paid him no mind. As he neared the gate to the casino he heard a click. He turned to find Boone staring down his scope, bleeding profusely.

"Hoy'ee sht, Boom. Wha appund?" Six asked, voice muffled.

Boone's face was pale, he swallowed and lowered his rifle. "Six? Where the hell did you get that suit?"

"Hafowndit," Six told him.

"I can't understand a word you're saying."

Six hastily removed the helmet. "I found it. What the hell happened?"

"Got attacked. Dean's gone. No idea where to. These fuckers have been on me every step of the way." Six jammed a stimpack into Boone's ripcage. Boone winced with pain. "If this kind of thing is going to happen often, we're going to have to discuss my salary."

Six situated Boone's arm across his shoulders and they made for the gate. "Have you seen any of the others?"

"No. Veronica and Christine weren't at the station. I stopped to check on them."

The gate swung open. Six hauled Boone up the stairs to the grand casino. He reached for the door – it pulled open with no resistance. They guardedly stepped inside. On the floor before them he saw the rest of the group lying lifelessly. Dean was not amongst them. "…Oh you gotta be kidding me."

A bright flash of light. He felt as though he had been hit with a cattleprod. Boone went limp in his arms. He lost the strength to hold Boone's weight and allowed him to topple to floor. Six took a step forward. Another powerful shock. He peered around the room, his vision blurring and his legs growing shaky.

Once more and he hit his knees. A final jolt and he was out before he hit the floor. He didn't even feel the pain when his skull bashed into marble tile.

* * *

_So, I really enjoy this chapter. It was a lot of fun to write. I need to start working on them earlier, so I'm not up all night. But, seeing as I'm still out of action because of my broken ankle and on bed rest...there's not much to do about it._

_I recently got Dragon's Dogma. So...it's been preoccupying me. Which is why I don't start writing until late. It's pretty awesome.  
_

_The next chapter will be a bit longer - because the mission is a bit longer. Plus, it has God/Dog in it...and that character always has a lot to say. Five chapters left - then I'll continue work on A Courier's Tale. For those of you who don't know what that is...you should really be reading that first. The prologue and first ten chapters have already been posted.  
_

_Anyway. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I did a bit of improvising, but I liked the way it turned out. Until next time.  
_


	9. Chapter 8: Schizophrenic Conversations

_So, even though Dog/God clearly has Dissociative Identity Disorder, the fallout world seems to insist that their split personalities is schizophrenia. Though it's not uncommon for individuals who suffer from DID to also have schizophrenia (comorbidity and stuff)...so I guess it's okay. Anyway, I think you'll really enjoy this chapter._

_Also, I want to thank all my readers. My views for this month alone have tripled that of last month. I don't know how many views people typically get...but I'm very pleased with how many I've been getting. Thanks again to you all! You're fantastic. Each and every one of you. I've given this a couple proof reads, but something always inevitably slips by, so if you notice anything, please don't hesitate to let me know. Constructive criticism and such.  
_

* * *

The first sense to come back was his sense of taste. The flavor that enveloped his mouth was pungent – thick with iron. Blood. Then his hearing – he could hear a steady, but distant, beat. Rhythmical and unfailing. He opened his eyes and saw indistinct darkness…but slowly, his vision began to clear. He pushed himself up off the floor and peered around the room. His ears rang and his body ached all over. He smacked his lips together a couple of times and struggled to find his footing.

"Cass?"

He looked around the room. Where was he? This definitely wasn't the Novac hotel room. He glanced around the floor, assessing his surroundings. Marble tile, a large fountain, an imposing winding stair case…and a bright blue, almost transparent figure. Static crackled.

His ears popped once or twice.

"…you inside? Can you hear me?"

Six blinked a couple times, mouth dry and sore. He pressed his lips together – he could feel that one was swollen.

"Are you inside?"

"Wh..what?"

A heavy sigh. "Signals fluctuating, emergency power on…You _are _inside. Good. I thought you may have gone to meet your maker."

The pounding resumed. Louder this time. Six wheeled around and examined the entrance. The door's to the casino shook violently.

Elijah must have heard the pounding too. "They're trying to get in. Have been since the fireworks stopped going off. Must've kept them at bay…uh…you're safe. For now. There are some security holograms that can be activated via a terminal at the check-in desk…you might look into that."

The Sierra Madre. It all came flooding back. Six swept the room with his eyes…Boone still lay unconscious beside him. He was pale…far too pale. The stimpack had mostly mended the wound on his side, but he'd lost a lot of blood. "What happened?" Six asked, placing a hand on his bloated lip.

"You were knocked unconscious. Casino security…it detects anything foreign. Anything radioactive…then, if necessary, it subdues the visitor. Moves them if need be. I'm picking up collar signals on other floors…looks like the casino recognized your _friends_. Maybe it's programmed to recognize specific guests? …Maybe guests with specific voices or resemblances close enough for them to be…assigned to particular areas."

"Well, we're in? Am I going to meet you now?"

"No. No I don't think so. No need to take unnecessary risks. Welcome to the Sierra Madre! The pinnacle of prewar technology. _This_. _This_ is what the old world stood for – money, greed, convenience. Even while bombs were about to rain down on them…they celebrated the opening of a gigantic tomb. It's beautiful isn't it? Now? That the guests are all dead? …it's better this way. Quiet. Like the Mojave should be."

"We'll have to disagree on that point." Six rummaged through nearby suitcases and bags. He found a couple prewar business suits. Using the shirts, he created a makeshift wrap. He rummaged through his bag, withdrawing a half empty bottle of whiskey.

"Ah…yes. Maybe in time."

"Not likely." Six approached Boone. Rolling him onto his side, he poured the whiskey over the wound and the rag. Then he tied it securely around his waist. Boone grunted in anguish then fell silent again. Six looked around the room. Near the entrance was a large red sofa. Six hoisted Boone up, letting his feet drag the floor, and pulled him to the couch. He laid Boone across it. "You were saying something about security holograms?"

"Yes…Unfortunately, the casino is on emergency power. So many areas of the casino have been closed off. Including the basement. The vault. That's where fortune awaits us. Other…unnecessary systems have been shut down."

"And the holographic security is an unnecessary system?"

"Yes. Well, in the foyer, at least. In more restricted areas the holograms are still active. The casino's access security serves well enough. The shock you received upon entry? But it won't stop the villa inhabitants. It's not strong enough."

"Great. How do we turn the power back on?"

"You'll need to get into the security office. Go through the casino…large double doors north of the entrance. You can access the security office via the door behind the bar on the second floor of the casino. Use the terminal to unlock the electrical closet. Turn the main power back on there. Contact me if you require further assistance."

Six made his way north. True to the old man's words – and very prominent – were two large doors with the word "Casino" written above them. Six pushed one of the doors open. He was greeted by a holographic armored man. He approached the figure. The color changed to yellow. Six stopped. The figure watched him intently – then raised an arm, pointing back towards the doors.

Six raised a brow and looked around – to his right was a terminal. He backed away from the hologram and accessed the terminal. "Not locked…and it controls the route to the hologram? …Whoever designed this security program deserved to die when the bombs fell."

Six examined the options – then selected one. The hologram slowly turned and began making its way to the casino floor. Six rounded the corner and made his way up the stairs as quietly as his body permitted him to then proceeded to the door behind the bar. Upon opening it, he saw the brief flicker of another hologram as it turned to go down a hall to his right. He peered around the corner and watched it stop in a room at the other end. "Oh…why do I get the feeling that's the security room…" He continued up the stairs. On the next floor he found two offices – one with hologram controls, which he deactivated, and one with an autodoc Mk I. He then proceeded to the security office. The terminal here was locked.

"Here goes nothing…"

Six began to type – after a moment, the screen flickered and the text scrolled up.

‹**Terminal Locked – Please Contact An Administrator****›**

"You gotta be fucking kidding me…"

"What? What happened?"

"I locked myself out of the security terminal that disengages the door to the electrical closet."

The old man sighed. "..._useless..._Connect your pip-boy to the terminal…"

Six obliged.

After a minute, the terminal rebooted.

‹**Access Granted**›

**‹Disengage Electric Closet Lock›**

**"**It's open."

"Reengage the power. I've marked the location of the closet on your pip-boy."

Six followed the marker on his pip-boy back into the casino. At the far end of the room, he saw a hologram standing motionlessly before the closet, and another patrolling the casino floor. "It's being guarded by a hologram."

"So deactivate it."

"From where?"

"The emitters. Look for blue glowing spherical objects on the walls, ceilings, or floor. Deactivate them. If you can do it without destroying them, even better."

Six scowled at the old man's persistence. "I don't see any emitter for it."

"Then you'll have to make a run for it won't you?"

Six backtracked to the first terminal – he set the patrolling hologram's to make rounds on the second floor bar. Then he slowly approached the electrical closet. When he had gotten satisfactorily close, he stood and bolted. The hologram went hostile so quickly, he didn't even see it turn yellow. It shone a bright crimson – and began to fire at him. He strafed – dodging high and low, left and right, until he passed the hologram and slammed the utility door shut behind him. He frantically searched the walls. No emitter…but he did see the utility box. He flipped the power switch and the casino buzzed to life.

* * *

Six spread Boone out across the stretcher and activated the autodoc. The steel arms began scanning and prodding his body.

"Now. It'll be a while before the machine finishes its job. I wonder…if when he gets up, he'll thank you…or kill you. Take the treasure for himself."

"You obviously don't know the man."

"Do you? Do you really? How long have you known him? He hasn't given you any reason not to trust him? He's openly honest with you?"

"Everyone has secrets."

"Ah…yes. Secrets. But those secrets…may be revealed in time."

"And what secrets are you hiding, Elijah? Have you told Veronica what you intend to do with the technology here? Does she know about the weaponized gas? The girl worships the very ground you walk on and you can't even tell her what you intend to do."

"She can't know. You can't tell her. You do and she _will_ do whatever it takes to protect the people of the Mojave. Even if it means taking the lives of each and every one of you."

"I'm still not convinced that's a bad idea. Who's to say you're not going to kill us as soon as you get into that vault anyway?"

"You'll just have to trust me. I'm not the _bad guy_ here. I'm trying to secure the future. To create a new world under a single order. Under the Brotherhood. A world where the very notion of _need_ is a thing of the past. Where safety and stability reign supreme."

"The Brotherhood preserves technology. They protect people from making the same mistakes all over again. You want to manipulate it. Use it to domineer and dictate the world. Your ideals and the Brotherhood's principles are not compatible. Even if you secured this technology, they'd never agree to using it."

"The ones that do not agree…wouldn't survive long enough to resist change. Don't you understand? The Brotherhood. Is. Dying. Someone has to step up. To take control. The codex is foolish. It serves no purpose other than repressing potential. It's a burden. The Brotherhood _needs_ liberation. And I'm going to give it to them. No matter the cost."

"You're insane."

"And what of you? What skeletons lie in your closet?"

Six swallowed, his thoughts beating back to that intricate moment with Christine. "I don't really recall much of my past."

"Oh? Then you're just full of secrets aren't you. Secrets unknown even to yourself. Does that scare you? Are you afraid to go digging in your past? Afraid of what you might find?"

Six thought back to how easily he had taken the lives of the Powder Gangers in the Bison Steve. About how mercilessly he had tortured Joe Cobb before ending is life. About the unarmed man, excited to be alive, and how he'd silenced his joyful sounds so that he and Cass could evade the Legion. But…he had done that to protect her. To protect the town of Goodsprings. All that he had done, he had done for the benefit of others. Hadn't he? He quickly cast the thoughts aside. It was silly – fretting over something he could no longer remember. "Just tell me what to do next."

"The casino's woken up…it's paying attention to us. Unfortunately, even with the power restored, the systems haven't fully awoken. I can't yet access the sound archives…it's due to interference."

"What's so important about the sound archives?" Six asked.

"That's none of your concern," the old man's voice snapped.

"What kind of interference?"

"From the bomb collars. It's the white noise filters embedded into their construction. Blocking the casino's speakers. You'll need to recalibrate…or destroy…each collar. You'll have to get close…re-set each signal. Or likewise blow the collar up. I don't really care either way, so the choice is up to you. If you do kill them…make it quick."

"Can't you just deactivate the collars?"

"No. Not now. The collars don't work inside the Sierra Madre…well, at least not between floors. Whatever they lined this place with during its construction interferes with the collars frequency. So you should have just enough time to get away…I'm picking up trace amounts of gas. Flammable. Explosive. Coming from the vicinity of collar 8…the FEV reject. Find out what that idiot is doing before he kills us all.

* * *

Six opened the door to the Cantina Madrid – the casino's kitchen and dining hall. Upon entering he recoiled at the stench of gas…

He could hear them…Dog and _God_. They were conversing with each other…for the first time. Almost co-existing. Each gaining control for the briefest of moments.

"Dog going to make casino burn, Dog is not going…_Back in the cage! Stop what you're doing, we can…_Hear you. Dog hear the voice. Not much longer. Dog not…_listening. Please listen to me. I'm trying to protect you…I've always tried to protect you. I have to take control or_…Master tell Dog what to do. Master good to Dog. Tells Dog what to…_do this and you'll kill us. Dog…you'll kill everyone in this building. They'll all…_Die. Dog wants to die. Dog so tired…Dog don't care anymore. Tired of you. Tired of place. Tired of man with head scar. Dog will crush him. He can…_help us. Please, Dog. Let me help us. If you don't, then you're…_"

"Insane," Six finished God's sentence. The nightkin stopped to look at Six.

"You. You are mean to Dog. Lock Dog in cage. Dog is so hungry. You no run…or Dog will chase you. Catch you. Break you until you no run anymore. Now Dog…_will kill us both. You have to do something. Never felt him so strong before. He won't listen to my voice._"

"But he'll listen to mine," Six's pip-boy rang. "Dog. Do not anger your master. The man that stands before you. Do as he commands."

"Mmm…Master. Dog not want Master to be mad. Dog will_…listen to you. He'll listen…I can't hold him back much longer. Tell him…to pull on the chain around his neck. As hard as he can…until he hears it crack. It's for the best…it's…_what master wants. Dog will do. Please don't be mad with Dog."

"Hmm…" Elijah's voice chimed. "Dog. The chain around your neck…pu…"

Six flipped the switch on his pip-boy. Elijah's voice abruptly silenced. "Dog, listen to me."

"Dog is listening. _Both of us are._"

"Dog. I want you to listen to me carefully. The voice is part of you. It's who you were…before all this." Six motioned around him. "Before the bombs fell. Listen to the voice. It's only trying to protect you."

"_Good. If he'll listen to me…this can all end. We can get out of this perpetual cycle of madness…finally…and_…now Dog is listening to voice. Your voice, Master."

"No Dog. I'm not your master. I'm your friend."

"Fr…friend?"

"And the voice is your friend. So I want you to sleep. And don't wake up, not until the voice tells you to."

"Voice is friend? Voice is…_the same. Do you see now Dog? We're the same. You've hurt yourself. Inside. Do you_…understand. Dog understands now. Dog knows what happened. But…if Dog lets the other voice out. If Dog goes to sleep…Dog won't wake up. Dog doesn't want to…_go to sleep. Good. Rest Dog._"

The nightkin breathed heavy for a long moment – as he and Six stood in silence. Finally, he cocked his head to the side.

"It worked…I don't feel him struggling anymore," The nightkin examined the trap on its wrist. "I'm in so much pain…and though it pains me to admit, I'm starving. Still…I'm not fighting him. I only wanted to take care of him…to keep him from hurting himself. From hurting others. One day, when he's ready…when _I'm_ ready. I'll let him out."

"So you're okay?"

"Yes. Yes, I think I am. Things are under control."

"Good. Then help me with these damn pipes."

* * *

Elijah stood over Christine, who lay in Vera's bed. He pushed the autodoc towards the bed and carefully removed her collar.

"You're certain this is the way in?" He asked.

"Of course," a suave voice answered. "I've been planning on getting into this vault for a very, _very_ long time."

"So the vault is voice activated, then."

"Yes. And the only voice that can deactivate the locking mechanism is sitting in that chair…there."

Elijah turned to the long dead woman in the chair. "And who is that?"

"Her name was Vera Keyes. Sinclair built this place as some sort of _shrine_ to her greatness. He was no fool, Sinclair. He knew the state of the world – and he knew war was on the horizon. He built the vault to protect her…and himself. Only, when the bombs fell…Sinclair was nowhere to be found."

"Ah. So he made the key to the vault the voice of the woman he loved."

"Indeed."

"…It's showtime at the Tampico, Mr. Domino. You are going to be a very, very wealthy man. Whenever you're ready," Elijah motioned towards the door.

"Shouldn't we remove my collar as well?" Dean asked.

"No. If you're not wearing a collar when he finds you, he'll be suspicious. And he'll likely make short work of you. You're a tough man – surviving in the villa as long as you have. But I don't think you could take on him and that sniper of his."

"…Good point. And what of the robed woman in the lobby?"

"The less she knows, the better. But she will remain unharmed. As will Christine. They're Brotherhood. Even if one of them was sent to assassinate me. When they see what I'm doing, they'll come around. Or, at least, Veronica will. And she will not allow Christine to harm me. Likewise, she would not allow any harm to come to Christine. On the other hand…that courier and his NCR associate are of no consequence. Go to the theater. Await the arrival of that pip-boy wearing fool. Take them out."

Dean's yellow grin spread wide, "With pleasure."

* * *

_*Insert dramatic music here*_

_The plot thickens. I have to say, I really enjoyed writing the Dog/God conversations. I hope it was clear...but God's dialogue is in italic all the way up until he gains control. Next chapter...Veronica will chat with Elijah, Six confronts Dean. Plus! God will break Boone's back and trap him in a giant underground prison where Boone will have to embrace his fear and escape without a rope...no wait, that's not going to happen at all.  
_

_Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. See you next time.  
_


	10. Chapter 9: Something's Gotta Give

_Three chapters left for Aces & Eights. By this time next week, we'll have moved on. But, Six's adventure throughout the Mojave will continue. This chapter pretty much wrote itself. A little more conversation, a little less action. But, all in all, I like the way it turned out. Hopefully, you all will too. Cheers._

* * *

Elijah watched Veronica sitting before him. She was balled up, like she used to do when she was nervous or afraid. Back when Elijah had taken an interest in her. Young enough to mold into his own image. Broken enough at the loss of her parents to follow anyone who'd just be there for her. But what had started out as a ploy turned to genuine affection. He cared about her, even if it pained him to admit it. He had never had children of his own. Or, at least, none worth giving thought to. She was different. Motivated, jovial, and a little naïve. Elijah flipped a switch on his pip-boy – "I'm picking up collar 14 in the Tampico. The casino's theater. That will be your next target."

Before Six could respond, he flipped the switch again. Then turned his attention back to the young woman sitting in silence. She refused to let her eyes meet Elijah.

"If your friend succeeds, we can use the archives. You have to understand. Her surgery…it was a backup plan. Just in case the archives were corrupted. The technology here…_it could change everything_. We could wipe the slate clean. Eliminate the threat of the Republic…bring peace to the Mojave, to California. We could finally make them understand!" Elijah's voice was melancholic, yet firm. He reached out to the robed woman . "Veronica, we could begin anew."

She pulled away, tucking her legs beneath her chin. "You…I just don't get it. You knew how close Christine and I were. Why would you do this?"

"I did it for the Brotherhood. I had to…why don't you ask her about the Circle of Steel. Ask her about her mission. What she's doing at the Sierra Madre to begin with. Do you think it's a coincidence you ran into her here? No. A coincidence that you stumbled upon this place…but she's here for a reason. Those scars on her face. Do you think they came from the autodoc in the villa clinic? No. They're older. From Big Mountain. Where she attempted to assassinate me."

Veronica looked up through watery eyes. "No. She left the Brotherhood. After her parents decided we couldn't be together."

Elijah scoffed. "That's what she told you? Really? She never left. She just joined a more…exclusive group."

Veronica buried her face in her knees. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"To open your eyes. To make you understand. I'm not the bad guy here. I'm trying to save the Brotherhood. Don't you see? Her collar. Your collar. Removed…Veronica…I," the old man rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'd never hurt you. You're like a daughter to me. You know that, don't you?"

She didn't answer. Elijah took her silence to mean he was getting through. "There's a reason I chose you, Veronica. A reason I made you my protégée. Passed all of my values to you. I can't be around forever. I want you to be at my side when the new era arises. When the Brotherhood finds salvation and reclaims the wastes. I want you to be my right hand. And when the time comes, I want you to lead the Brotherhood to greater heights. Far greater than ever before. Don't you see? I'm doing this for the best. For the Brotherhood. _For you._"

"But at what price? We should be protecting the people of the wastes. Not dominating them."

"They need to be controlled! They need to be told what to do. It works better this way. All of the greatest empires...Roman, the Soviet Union, Chinese, the German empire. They were all dictated. People don't want freedom. Freedom demands responsibility. People cannot handle responsibility. They want someone to depend on. Someone to tell them what to do, and how to do it."

"Roman? You mean like the Legion?"

"No. The Legion consists of petty criminals and tribes banding together under the rule of a tyrant who can't see that he's driving them into the ground. He doesn't just subjugate his enemies. He terrorizes them. We wouldn't terrorize our citizens. We would provide for them. They would grow to depend on us. Our relationship would be…symbiotic."

Veronica sniffed. She looked up at the man – the man she had seen as a grandfather for so many years. She stared into the depths of his soul. He honestly believed that his solution was superior to Caesar's. That his idea of ruling the people was fundamentally different. He didn't understand that the help he referred to wasn't assistance at all. It was slavery. It was the flip side to the same coin. She looked into his eyes, and she drowned in his madness.

Elijah's pip-boy hissed to life. "Just entered the Tampico," rang Six's voice. "Anything I should expect?"

"The ghoul. He's setting up a trap for you. Be wary. And when you find him. Break him."

* * *

Boone sat up, tracing the stitching along his ribs.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Six asked.

"Fireworks…A hologram. The woman at the fountain…except on a stair case. Then nothing."

"We took a bit of a shock. Casino defenses," Six explained. "Lucked out, finding this autodoc. Not sure you'd made it otherwise."

Boone struggled to stand. He was still pale – and dizzy.

"Whoa. Lost a lot of blood." Six trifled through a nearby locker – exhuming a roll of surgical tubing, a needle, and a couple bags of blood. "O negative…that's universal right?"

Boone nodded. Six set up the materials and guided the needle into a vein.

"Where'd you learn to do this?"

Six nodded towards a book lying on the autodoc – "DC Journal Of Internal Medicine. Couldn't understand a lot of it. But it had diagrams that were easy enough to follow."

The pip-boy crackled for the briefest of moments. "I'm picking up collar 14 in the Tampico. The casino's theater. That will be your next target." It fell silent.

"Well, what's next?"

"Next? I'm headed to the theater. You're staying here."

"Like hell," Boone attempted to stand. A strong arm grasped his shoulder.

"Sit down," a graveling voice commanded. It was God. He turned to Six. "A few ghost people made it into the Casino. I don't know how they got in. The door's firmly locked. Luckily they were the smaller ones. Probably crawled in through the ventilation. I've taken care of it."

"Good. Got word from the old man. Dean's in the Tampico. He wants us to retrieve him."

"I'm done playing fetch for that arrogant fool."

"Boone's in no shape to give me back-up. He's safe here. Holograms reactivated in the hall. The ghost people won't come in here. But I could use a hand."

The nightkin sighed – though it sounded more like a growl. "Very well."

* * *

The elevator doors to the Tampico opened with an electronic ding. Six stepped out and observed the area around him. A greeting desk sat idly before them – to his right the room conjoined with a horizontal hall. Six spoke: "Just entered the Tampico. Anything I should expect?"

"The ghoul. He's setting up a trap for you. Be wary. And when you find him. Break him."

"How do you know he's setting up a trap?"

Silence.

"Elijah?" Six tapped on his pip-boy. "Elijah?" He repeated, a little more loudly. He drew a long breath. "…Let's get this over with."

Six took a step forward, God grasped his arm. "_No_. Elijah has never _seen_ any of you."

"Yeah?"

"How'd he know Dean was a ghoul?" The nightkin asked bewilderedly.

Six raised a brow.

"Best we proceed with caution," God spoke quietly.

The theater was loaded with speakers – at every step Six's collar began to beep. He scanned the walls. "They're the shielded kind."

"That means there's a terminal to access them nearby. Given we're in a theater…it's likely back stage."

The sound of clapping resonated in the room. "Brilliantly deduced. Your _master_ must be enthralled."

God growled under his breath.

"Dean. The collars are interfering with the sound archives. We need to regroup, get to Elijah."

"Oh, I'll be meeting with Elijah soon enough."

"…So that's it then. You've stabbed us in the back? Betrayed us? For the treasure."

"And so, greed has its day," God sneered.

"I'm not stabbing you in the back, you insufferable nosebleeds. I've been facing you the entire time. Who do you think was behind this heist? I planned it lifetimes ago. You and that old man? That tight little piece of ass that's partial to hand signals? Nothing more than tourists. Right place, right time."

"That's why you weren't knocked unconscious with the rest of us."

"Finally piecing together the act. Better late than never. No, I was knocked unconscious like the rest of you. I was just…retrieved before you showed up. I was halfway off the rooftop and through the service tunnel by the time the light show started. Before Vera finished her speech. I made a bee-line for the gates before the streets flooded with _ghosts_. Looks like I got the royal treatment after all…"

"Listen to me Dean…Elijah has no intention of cutting you in on the vault's contents."

"Please. Without me, the buzzard would have never figured out how to open the casino."

"Think about it Dean. If he had intentions of working with you, why would he send you down here with your collar on?"

Dean's smile faded. "I had to leave it on, to keep up an image."

"But you didn't even attempt to keep up the image. You came straight out with it as soon as we got here. And if it was all about image…why didn't he just let you wear a deactivated collar?"

Now Dean's face was grave. "Do you have any idea what I put into this heist? It's the biggest heist in history! Two hundred years in the making! I had all but given up. Then the old man showed up…you showed up…_and the mute did_. She wasn't mute then. But I subdued her…trapped her in the clinic autodoc. When her throat heals up, she'll have a lovely singing voice. Although she won't recognize it as her own."

"What do you mean?"

Dean grimaced. "You'll see soon enough…or you won't."

"Well," God growled. "How about you come down here? So I can see what your insides look like spread out all over the stage?"

Dean took a step back, nervous grin on his face. "No. No I'm not leaving this spot. I've got no interest in fighting you. Why should I? When the Sierra Madre will kill you for me…" He disappeared briefly through a door behind him. Six could faintly hear the sound of keys. When he emerged, he toted a steel folding chair. "I think I'll just grab a seat…see how this plays out from up here."

"What did you just do?" God asked through gritted teeth.

"Oh, just hired on some new security. They'll be here soon enough."

"…Are you stupid? The security will target you too."

"No. No it won't. You see, the casino recognizes me as a guest. You…on the other hand…"

A streak of red lightning shot by Dean, causing a tremendous crash from the stairwell behind him. Sparks flew from within.

"What the hell!" Dean yelled, ducking into the doorframe.

The holograms were frenzied – attacking the group.

The speakers crackled. "Did you think I was going to let you waltz into the vault? To steal from me? The Sierra Madre is _mine_!"

"Damn fool! I planned this! I earned it! I made it all happen! Not _you_!"

"And I thank you for your cooperation," Elijah's voice boomed.

"You kill me, I still win! Do you hear me? I still win! You'll never get into the vault without me!"

"Oh I think I can manage." A click, then silence.

Six and God ducked behind the bar. "What now?"

"Now, we go backstage," God snarled. He stood and bolted for the door. The holograms turned their full attention to him, firing in controlled bursts. He approached the door miraculously fast for someone so large. With one heavy kick, he knocked the door off its hinges. Six followed him. In the backstage hallway, their collars immediately began to beep. Six fumbled with his pip-boy. The sound of the counter-frequency filled the air. The collars stopped beeping and began emitting static.

"This buys us a couple minutes. We need to find the sound control."

They split up, going from room to room. Six stormed into the first dressing room he came to – mostly empty, save a lone radio. Six withdrew lucky and planted two rounds into it. He heard two more explosions, as God eliminated speakers elsewhere. He continued down the hall – then he found it.

He turned the system on – and it booted up without conflict. He scrolled through the options.

"Found it!"

He clicked a key, and the static faded. He turned to the door leading to the stage. "It's locked…Maybe I can pi…"

The door flew open, spinning into darkness. God's foot hit the ground with a dull thud. "Please, allow me."

Dean stood before them – pistol in hand.

"Well, we've really gotten ourselves in a predicament, haven't we? So maybe you and I should have a little chat – just like we did when you first waltzed into town."

"I think the time for talk is done."

"You kill me, you kill us all," Dean said, taking a step back.

"Except it won't," Six told him, following him into the dark room. "And you already know that. Else you wouldn't have activated the security holograms. The lining of this place…it interferes with the collars. Gives a delay between the explosion. You might get a shot off…but I don't think you're in any shape to take on _him_." Six motioned to God.

Dean grasped his arm. Even in the dark, Six could see the blood. "Do you see now? Elijah used you. Like he used the rest of us. But I don't want what's in the vault. I want to get this bomb collar off my neck. I want to go home."

"Home? Into the wastes? What's out there? Death. Famine. Radioactive disease. There's nothing worth going back to. The only thing left is the Sierra Madre."

"That's where you're wrong. New Vegas stands still. Bright casino lights. Gambling. Women."

Dean's demeanor changed. "Vegas survived...that is interesting..."

"You're holding on to some ill-gotten dream. Let it go Dean. What are you trying to prove?"

"Prove? Haven't you been listening? I'm no idiot…I know how to get into the casino vault. There's a private elevator in Sinclair's executive suite. Vera's suite. It's no coincidence. Vera was my partner before the bomb. I had her weasel her way into Sinclair's heart. He was already puppy-eyed…so all I had to do was make introductions. She smiled, fluttered her eyes…showed him a little leg. And he made this place…_for her_ he said. But I knew it wasn't about her. It was about being _better_ than me. Look around you. This colossal monument. Do you really think it was for some woman? No. It was his ego. The obstinate, self-righteous…I had to bring him down a few pegs. To my level. _Begin again_…." Dean scowled. "Some things you don't get up from…and I aim to prove it."

"Prove it to who? Sinclair is either dead or he's one of those damnable creatures outside."

Dean's face sunk at the prospect.

"You've been holding on to a dream that died when the bombs fell. Let it go."

Dean was silent.

"Dean."

Still nothing.

"Dean!" Six grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him. His gun fell to the floor. "We need to get out of here."

"What? Oh…yeah, right."

"So turn the holograms back off."

"Can't," Dean motioned to the terminal at top of the stairs. "Damn things fried the system."

"There's got to be another way. I saw an exit near the first dressing room…"

"No, it's filled with toxins from the vents. We go in there and we'll be on Cloud Nine in caskets." Dean's face was vacant. "But…uh…um. Yeah…so security's here because the show hasn't started. Guests aren't allowed in. So…we start the show."

"You're going to get out there and sing for them?" God ask, slightly amused.

"No. When Sinclair was setting this all up, we had rehearsals. And he'd record us…holographically. So we could critique our own performances. When we queued the recordings up…the security disappeared. It was replaced with a nice, calm holographic audience."

"So how do we start up the recording?"

"Ah…Vera used to watch the performances from the projection booth. She may have a key…"

"Okay. You two stay here…I'll pick the lock to her room…"

"No need," Dean reached into his pocket and tossed Six a key.

"You have a key to her room."

"Uh…yeah."

"Why?"

"Do I really need to spell it out? I've seen the way you look at the mute. You and I…we're cut of the same cloth. Time's wasting…those holograms aren't going to get tired and go home. So head up to the projection booth…play the score. Might reset the security."

Six disappeared around the corner.

"I'm really starting to hate the security here…"

"You're preaching to the choir, doggy. Those electric ghosts aren't the kind of audience I like even at the best of times…_at least the ones in the villa had manners_." Dean quipped.

Six paused momentarily to observe the holograms' patrol patterns. Then, he bolted. Around the corner, up the stairs and into a locked door. He fumbled with the key. He peered over his shoulder to see the glow of the hologram as it made its way up the stairs behind him. The key slipped in. He threw the door open and rushed the projector. It whirred to life – casting a holographic Dean Domino onto the stage.

_When an irresistible force such as you, meets an old immovable object like me…you can bet as sure as you live…  
something's gotta give, something's gotta give, something's gotta give _

* * *

_Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Until next time._


	11. Chapter 10: Last Luxuries

_The journey is nearing its end. Two chapters left for Aces & Eights and we'll be moving on in A Courier's Tale. This chapter is far more dialogue than action, but the next chapter should make up for that._

_Enjoy.  
_

* * *

__Faintly, Veronica could hear the whirring of the autodoc as it completed is repairs.

"It's almost time," Elijah said. Smiling at her gently.

"Why did you bring us here?"

Elijah's smile faded. "Everyone always asks that…you shouldn't worry about what's done. Instead, you should worry about how you intend to leave." His voice was harsher than he meant it to be. Veronica cast her gaze to the ground. "I didn't intend for you to be caught in one of my traps, Veronica."

"Why would you set them to begin with?"

"I…had to. To get into the Sierra Madre. Sacrifices had to be made. I spilled blood…a lot of blood. Mine. Others. But it's worth it."

"How could it be worth it?" Veronica asked, eyes welling.

"Because it will bring peace! Stability! Not just to the Mojave, but to the entire coast!"

She was silent.

"When…when I left, I did not abandon you. I was searching for solutions. After Helios One…" the old man sighed. "Failures like that give you the most pristine clarity. After that loss…I wandered alone. I saw the storms of the Divide. I walked among the Ciphers of the west. I traversed the Big Empty. It was there…I met a man, a…courier. He told me of the legends of this place…the Big Empty's terminals held records. I began my search…then I heard the signal. The woman's voice. I tracked it. Followed it here. Veronica, you see it as well as I do…the Brotherhood has become a shadow of its former self. But with this," he motioned around him. "This old world haven…we would have our own citadel. Security…weaponry. The Madre is all of these things."

"We already have a citadel. We have bunkers all over the country."

"But nothing like this. The Madre is a fortress. Once we unlock its secrets we can carve this wasteland into a nation. With the technology here…with the collars, we can do that."

Veronica felt a lump in her throat. "You want to build a nation of slaves. Do you think the people of the wasteland are going to roll over and let you slap a collar on their necks?"

"They don't have to. One collar will start a revolution. With one…comes a second. And that one, another. Two turns into four. Four into eight. The collars ensure compliance…enforces cooperation. When your life is tied to another, sacrifice and cooperation – they can be conditioned, learned, and you can focus on the matters at hand. Human nature can be beaten. Contained. Controlled."

"Obviously not…" She muttered under her breath. Elijah didn't hear her. Or, if he did, he didn't care.

"The technology here is vastly superior to anything we've ever imagined. The machines that fill the streets of the villa. The corridors of the casino. They provide…they can provide almost anything. They are far too valuable to dismiss…you know it as well as I do."

"So just take the machines. We could have broken them down. Learned how they work. Then replicated them."

"The vending machines are only the beginning. The holograms here…all of the research I've done on the technology, the facility at Big Mountain was clear. Only the Sierra Madre's holograms worked…ah…properly. Dump one of the emitters in the middle of any battle…and it's like holding the sun in your hands. There's no defense. You can't fight it…you can only watch it burn. Just one. A portable army. Arm it…and no one can stand against you."

"You would murder the masses?"

"Murder? No. If I were a murderer, I'd have set off the collars long ago. The holograms are merely tools…like the cloud."

The electronic whir of the autodoc came to a halt. Veronica's brow raised. "Wait, what?"

Elijah hesitated. "The..uh…the cloud. It's unique in my travels. Its proximity to the Sierra Madre isn't a coincidence, Veronica. Even now, it protects the casino. Preserves it. And it can be used to preserve other old war relics. The Hoover Dam. New Vegas. It could protect them…cleanse them. Simultaneously. The cloud…it will allow me to wipe the slate clean. To begin again. The collars ensure cooperation. The holograms give us defense. The vending machines provide…everything else. Food, medical assistance, ammunition. They can even be used to make more collars or print currency. Don't you see? The Sierra Madre can kill nations…and build them."

Veronica swallowed.

"You're insane," the casino broadcast's voice cut in.

Veronica looked up – it was Christine. She stepped forward, Elijah swung the holorifle around and leveled it at her chest.

"This…rifle...is special. One shot, and I promise you…you won't get back up."

Christine eyed the rifle, Veronica was instantly on her feet.

"Tell her, Christine. Tell Veronica…why you're here."

Veronica was standing between them now, eyes on Christine.

"Vee…the things he's done. He can't be allowed to leave the Sierra Madre. What he's done here…it's nothing compared to what he's done in the past. The trail of bodies he's left in his wake."

"All necessary sacrifices," Elijah assured. "I've done a lot of things I regret. Lost much in my past…falling to my instincts. Believe me Veronica…this time, it'll be different." His pip-boy came to life – a sharp buzz filled the air for the slightest of moments. "Ah…looks like Dean has dealt with your boyfriend," he said, staring at Christine. "Or vice versa."

Veronica raised a brow.

Elijah smiled at her. "Oh, she didn't tell you? Of course she didn't tell you. Do you want to now?" He asked, eyes turning back to Christine. "Or should I?"

"Veronica, he's just trying to distract you. Listen to me…"

"Yes, Veronica. Listen to her. Let her tell you about her intimate moment with Six," He watched Christine's eyes widen. "Ah, don't be surprised. The villa has securities. No machine is fool proof…they are, after all, designed to obey us. Anyone with even superficial knowledge of a Rob-Co terminal could have hacked into the security feed."

His pip-boy buzzed again, and he peered down at it. "Sound archives have been accessed. You're both free to go. The Sierra Madre…after all of this time. Is mine." He backed across the room, gun still leveled at Christine. With one arm, he accessed a terminal next to a door. It opened with a click and he sunk through it, closing it behind him.

* * *

"_Sinclair…if you can hear me. I'm trapped. The security…it won't let me go. I'm going to die here…amongst the ghosts. I don't want to die, Sinclair. I'm so sorry. I've come so far to be here…and now, I just want to leave. Please. Sinclair. Just let me leave."_

Dean's eyes fell at the sound of Vera's voice. "Vera…"

"The woman in the hologram?"

Dean didn't respond. His demeanor was enough to answer Six's question.

"Well, we don't have time to sit around self loathing. Show me where the old man is keeping Veronica and Christine."

"Right. Right, this way."

As they made their way through the executive suites, Six noticed more holograms of Vera.

"Don't approach them…" Dean warned. "They're not like her other holograms. The face is calming, but they're dangerous."

They continued through the suites until reaching a set of double doors – not unlike the ones leading to the casino.

Dean brought a finger to his mouth in a hushing motion. "The old man…and your friends…are behind these doors. Wait at the end of the hall. I'll draw him out, and you cut him out of the picture."

The group got into position. Dean casually swung open the door. "The problem has been taken care of old bird, eve…" Dean looked around the room. Christine and Veronica sat together on a nearby sofa. Speaking in hushed tones. Christine had her hand on Veronica's, who seemed ill at ease. "Where's the old man?"

Christine looked up. "He got into the vault. It locked behind him."

"What? How?"

"His pip-boy. It had remote access to the sound archives," Veronica said.

"But…we didn't know the password."

"Elijah has a way with technology," Veronica sighed. "Did he suffer?"

"I don't know. I don't know what's in the vault."

"No…I mean Six. Did he suffer?"

"What?" Dean narrowed his eyes. "Oh…oh no. He's fine." Dean turned back to the door, poking his head out into the hall. "The old man isn't here. He's already in the vault."

Six began making his way towards Dean. "Well lets go in after him."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. We don't know the password. And even if we did, we don't have access to the sound archives. He had accessed it remotely with his pip-boy…"

"And I can't do that with mine?"

"Afraid not. He took precautions. He thought, in the event you survived, you'd come after him. So once the archives were downloaded, he corrupted the data outside of his pip-boy."

"Fuck…he has to come out sometime doesn't he?"

"Knowing Sinclair, there are enough supplies down there to last him for a long time. He could easily wait us out."

"…That's it. You knew Sinclair. You already said he made the passphrase Vera's voice, and you said Christine would have a lovely singing voice." Six rushed into the suite. "Christine?"

Veronica stood, delivering a hard left handed swing into Six's jaw.

Six recoiled, clasping his hand to his face. "Gah, what the fuck?" He could hear God chuckling to himself.

She pulled back again, but Christine grabbed her arm. Veronica cast her a sidelong glance, then turned back to Six. "You're lucky I didn't use my gauntlet," she told him, holding up her right hand.

Six looked at her, then at Christine, who swallowed and turned away. "Oh shit…Look Vee, I'm sorry. I don't know what…"

"You know what? Just forget it."

Six was silent until his mind returned to the objective at hand. "Oh! Christine, you can talk now can't you?"

She cleared her throat, "It hurts to talk though. Even more to swallow."

"I bet it does…" Dean whispered under his voice.

"We're going to need your voice," Six continued.

"Why?"

Six turned to Dean, "Care to explain?"

"Ah…yeah. Sinclair built this Casino for Vera. The man was absolutely in love with her. And…creating a ridiculous pun with her name, he made the _key_ to the vault her voice."

"So?"

"So…" Veronica chimed in. "You kind of sound exactly like her."

"Do I? It sounds off to me…"

"So your voice," Six explained, "is the only way we're going to get down to Elijah."

"You're forgetting one very important thing," Boone interjected. "We still don't know the passphrase."

"…damn," Six looked at Dean. "You knew the man personally. There has to be something."

Dean thought for a long moment, then snapped his fingers. 'Yeah! By hell there is. Sinclair loved one of Vera's songs…what was it…"

"Begin again?" Veronica asked.

"Yeah!...how'd you know?"

She pointed at a poster on the wall. "It's on every poster of the casino that I've seen."

Dean pressed his lips. "Alright then. So, we just need her to sing that song…" Dean looked around the room, grabbing a pencil and a clipboard. He sat for a moment, humming to himself an periodically scribbling on a sheet of paper. Every now and then he'd put his fingers in the air and let them dance to imaginary music.

Six turned back to Veronica. "Vee…"

She shook her head. "Christine told me she came on to you. I guess I was just angry…I may have over reacted."

Six cast a glance at the gauntlet on her right hand. "Or you reacted really well…"

She smiled. "Maybe."

He turned to Christine, "You think you'll be able to do this?"

"I don't think I have much choice. I've been tracking him for a long time."

"Sounds like you two have a history," God mused.

"We do…" She turned to Veronica. "That's what I was trying to tell you before. He's the reason I had to leave. He used his status to tear us apart. He swayed the other elders. Told them that, if they separated us, we'd be more compliant. More willing to procreate…"

"He told me it was your parents…"

"Who do you think they were supporting? Elijah was their elder. Of course they'd back him up."

Veronica traced her hand across the scars on Christine's face again. "I had no idea…all this time."

"He had me transferred to a splinter faction of the Brotherhood. The Circle of Steel…they're strict. More so than the rest of the Brotherhood, if that's even possible. But then he became unstable…and when he left a trail of crimes across the wasteland, I was ordered to track him down. To pursue him…and to kill him. It became a new purpose for me. I first tracked him to a place far from here. A place where he got a lot of the technology he uses now. An old world facility in the middle of a crater. Almost got trapped there…but someone else came along. A courier."

"A courier?" Six echoed.

"Yeah. Wore an old world flag on his back. He saved my life. Told me where Elijah had gone. Helped me…" She ran her face over the scars. "Helped me to heal up. Sympathized with me."

"Sympathize?"

"He said he understood what it meant to track someone who had a large impact on the past. Said that people were like couriers…they carry a lot of messages. Messages that they often don't understand."

Boone grunted, "Sounds like a real philosopher."

"Got it!" Dean smiled wide. "Alright…this was Sinclair's favorite song. I guarantee you the passphrase will be in _these lyrics_."

* * *

"_Begin again in the night. Let's sway again tonight_."

"No no no," Dean shook his head. "You're singing it all wrong."

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Boone asked, watching Dean instruct Christine on how to _properly_ sing the song.

"It has to. Otherwise, the old man will never pay for his crimes," Six twisted his lips into a ball.

"Like hell. If I have to tear the elevator doors open and climb down the shaft – Elijah will pay for what he did to me."

"This vault was built to withstand a nuclear assault…" Veronica quipped. "Even with those arms, I don't think we'll be getting in without that passphrase."

"When we get down there, what's to stop him from just setting off the collars?" Boone's hand found his way to the collar.

"He took mine and Christine's off…" Veronica pointed out. "Hold on." She disappeared back into Vera's lobby. After a moment she reentered holding the dismantled collar. "Now that it's off, I might be able to see how to…yeah. There! A release mechanism. We just need something…"

"Like this?" Six held up a small flat-bladed screwdriver.

"Perfect." She grabbed Six's shoulder and flipped him around. "Now all I have to do…"

"Uh…" Boone raised a brow. "Shouldn't you…maybe take the elevator Back down into the lobby. So if it goes off it doesn't make every other collar go off too."

"No need," she said, clutching the collar and detaching it in one swift motion. "See? Piece of cake." Then she removed Boone's.

"My collar is…" God clutched his stomach.

"Oh…" She looked at his stomach. "Ah…it's probably best you don't go down there, then."

"Fat chance."

"Take it from the top!" Dean exclaimed. "Just like I showed you."

"_Be…gin again…in the night. Let's sway, again tonight."_

Dean smiled wide, bringing up one hand to remove his dark glasses.

"I don't think this is working…" God derided.

"Even if it doesn't, can't we just enjoy the music?" Veronica chimed.

Dean waved his hands dismissively. "Shh."

"…_To let go_…_Begin, begin again tonight._"

The group waited in silence. Nothin.

Six sighed. "It was worth a try."

"What now?" Christine asked.

"Um. If I might make a suggestion," Boone said, stepping forward. He extended his arm and pressed a key on the elevator's panel. The doors opened with a hiss. "Light came on," Boone pointed to a small light above the panel, "…when she finished the song."

Six was the first on the Elevator, followed quickly by Boone, Veronica, and God. Christine took a step back, peering into the cramped space.

"I'll…stay up here. If I can, I'll help. Might be able to figure something out using the Sierra Madre's computer systems."

Six turned to Dean, "And you?"

He casually leaned against the wall. "You know? Now that I've got the vault open in front of me. It doesn't seem that important." He cast a look in the direction of Vera's room. "I think I'll sit up here…think a while."

Six smiled lightly and nodded.

Christine spoke: "Elijah cannot be allowed to leave here alive."

"Understood," God growled. "Loud and clear."

"We don't have to kill him. He's misguided, but he's still a good man. We can reason with him…"

"Try and reason with him. See what happens. He's so lost in his technology. I don't think even he understands why anymore. He's changed Vee…he's not the man he used to be. I don't know if was age or…" Christine shook her head. "He'll keep killing until he gets what he wants. I can't stand by and let that happen…can you?"

Veronica was silent for a long moment. "Even if we kill him, someone else will come here. They'll use the technology for the same reasons."

"No…" Christine said quietly, pressing a key on the elevator panel. "They won't. When you all are done…when Elijah has met his fate. I'm going to see you out…and I'm staying here."

Veronica's eyes widened, she stepped forward – but the elevator doors sealed before her.

* * *

_The next chapter - the group confronts Elijah in the vault. But four on one is a little overkill isn't it? Maybe...just maybe...the old man has one last trick up his sleeve.  
Until next time._


	12. Chapter 11: Heist Of The Centuries

_So, my views for last month...quadrupled that of the month prior. You guys are awesome.  
_

_I really like the way this chapter turned out. I know it's late. But I've been working on it all night. I think it was worth the wait. I tried something a little different this time...I wanted to give some background on Sinclair, Vera, and Dean. If it's well recieved...the next chapter is going to cover the bombs dropping, Vera being sealed in her room, and Sinclair dying in the vault. And, of course, what happens to Six and his group...anyway. Enjoy._

* * *

He watched the long black dress sweep around her figure – billowing with every step, conforming to her body, stretching across her skin, so seamlessly that it seemed almost alien. It seemed as if the dress were somehow alive and – like every other living creature at this charity ball tonight – it seemed as if her dress desired nothing more than to hold on to her, to cling to her for dear life…and to never let her go.

The man brought his left hand up to his finely groomed mustache – combing it with his forefinger and thumb. The sleeve to his blazer fell loosely from his wrist, revealing a sterling silver watch that was sure to have cost him a small fortune.

"She is a sight…isn't she, Freddy?"

The man, Freddy, glanced slightly to his left as another individual sat across from him at his table. "Dean. Fancy seeing you here. You never struck me as the charitable type."

"I'm charitable enough…should the consequences of that charity be favorable to me."

"I'm not entirely sure that qualifies as being charitable."

Dean shrugged, running his hand through his thick dark hair. He pulled his dark brimmed glasses low on the bridge of his nose and watched the woman sway to the music with an elegance unmatched by any other in the room.

"So…that dress is a new one," Dean pointed out.

"A gift." Freddy admired the dress – how it enveloped her; the midnight black fabric that almost glistened and the crimson trim that laced the shoulders and base.

"One of many, I'm sure…" Dean chuckled. "So, how goes the casino? Coming along nicely, I trust?"

Freddy didn't answer. He brought his hand to rest on his chin, leaning his elbow against the table. His eyes never leaving the woman dancing on stage, singing his favorite song for potential benefactors…and, of course, for his viewing pleasure. The woman glanced across the room at him, shot him a wink, a wide smile, and continued her performance.

"That good, hmm?"

Freddy suddenly raised his eyebrows and nodded to Dean. "It's coming along well enough. Had an accident or two…a few gas leaks. But nothing my guys can't handle."

"I'd certainly hope so. You've put a large fortune into this project…why, I wonder?"

"It's really no secret," Freddy replied, a look of blissful tranquility on his face.

"Pulling out all the stops too, I hear…bringing in tech from all over."

"Yeah."

"Holographic staff, security…fission powered vending machines. I hear you even had a bomb shelter put in." Dean brought his hand up to his own mustache, twisting the corners gently.

"With the conflict with China escalating as it is, I think it's safe to assume that it's only a matter of time before things go to hell."

"And no one's ever told you that you're paranoid?"

"Some people like to call it paranoia. I like to think of it as preparation."

"A multi-billion dollar warm up."

"It's a small price to pay."

"Your financial advisers might disagree…"

"Yeah…maybe. But at the end of the day, the money I put into the projects I choose are for me to decide. And me alone."

"Still," Dean said, tapping his fingers on the table. "The press is reporting that you've taken out loans far exceeding your revenue…and on top of these loans, you host this charity. You're not dumb enough to put yourself so far under…in debt. What ace do you have tucked away up under that sleeve?"

"Call it a hunch. But I don't believe I'll be in debt with anyone come the end of the year."

Dean smiled wide, his straight white teeth reflecting the lights of the disco ball that hang loosely overhead. "Of that there's no doubt, old chap. This _mother of the mountain range_ of yours is definitely going to increase that waning revenue the media is circling."

"I guess one could take it that way…" Freddy looked at Dean briefly; his eyes narrowed and his face contorted with concern. "Why the sudden interest in my endeavors, Dean? You've never seemed interested in any of my ventures before."

"Call me apprehensive…but when one of the most prominent men in the United States starts building a bomb shelter in his basement, I think that's cause enough to pay attention."

He raised an eyebrow. "And that's all it is?"

Dean smiled but didn't answer.

"You know, Dean. On the night of the Gala Event. When the casino opens its doors to the world. When the world sees the tour de force that I have created…when Vera sees what I have created for her. I shall raise my glass into the air and whisper, 'Fortunato'. And all because you made a simple introduction. I suppose I should thank you for that."

Dean held up a hand, "Oh, no need. No need."

"But, you will – at least – be there, won't you?"

"Oh, I'll make the scene all right."

Around them, the music came to a slow halt. The woman on stage took a bow, and Freddy stood in applause. After a beat, Dean followed suit. The woman trekked off stage in her high heels, her sway mesmerizing every straight man and gay woman in the audience – and making those that weren't question their preferences. She approached the two men, a wide smile on her face. "Dean," she said with a voice that could charm any angel into sin. She gave him a peck on the cheek. "How've you been?"

"Vera," he took her hand into his own. "You know me…always in the groove."

"That you are," she smiled and turned to the other man. "Sinclair," her smile widened and she leaned in for a kiss. He met her half way.

Dean rolled his eyes; pulling his dark glasses back up, snugly obscuring those rolling eyes from view. Around them, the music started back up – a soft jazz with a quick beat. "Freddy certainly is the Deb's delight, isn't he, Vera?"

"That he is," she replied, still smiling at him.

Frederick Sinclair extended his elbow, "Ms. Keyes…may I have this dance?"

She tucked her arm into his and smiled. "But, of course." As she and Sinclair took the dance floor she cast Dean a glance. He smiled at her and tapped his wrist. A signal she well understood. The time was drawing near.

* * *

Dean sat silently on the bed, facing the remains of Vera Keyes. He reached up around his neck where his _bow tie_ had been and felt freedom. Yet, somehow he still felt trapped. "Well, doll…it's time for this old daddy-o to cut out. It's been a blast…or maybe, thankfully, it hasn't." He stood, laying his collar on the nightstand beside the bed.

Looking at her remains once more – he noticed the Med-X and super-stims strewn across the floor. When the bombs came crashing down, she must have been pretty spaced out, he thought. This came as no surprise to Dean…he knew she was an addict. But what he didn't know was the reason behind it.

Dean made his way to the suite's exit.

"Where are you going?" Vera's voice asked.

Dean knew it to be Christine, but part of him pretended it wasn't.

"Sweetheart, it's time for me to jump this scene…Las Vegas survived and is ripe out there for the taking. The lights…the music. The casinos. A prewar paradise in an apocalyptic world."

"You think things will be any different for you on the Strip? Do you know who owns Vegas? Robert House. Another billionaire philanthropist out to mold the world in his image. Everything you hated about Sinclair, House has done – and he's done better."

Dean chuckled. "Robert House is still alive? Wow, he and I must have a lot in common."

"You can't just leave. Not without knowing the others are okay."

"Uh...yeah. I can. I'm tearing a page from Sinclair's book…and I'm going to get out there to _begin again_."

"The vault elevator barely just closed! Do you even care if they're alright?"

Dean opened the suite door. "No. It's time to get out of here. Do my own thing…maybe you should think about that too." The door slapped shut behind him.

Christine breathed heavily, falling on to one of suite's sofas. She rested her head in her hands. She felt the scars. She swallowed, fighting back tears. Why had she betrayed Veronica the way she had? Why wasn't she able to get onto that elevator…to go down into that vault and finish her job? These damn scars ran so deep. She sniffed, making her way to her feet. She made a bee-line for Vera's room and began flipping through the options on the autodoc.

"Christine?...Christine can you hear me? I need your help!"

Christine wheeled around, searching for the source of the pleas. It was Veronica's voice. Then she saw it…on the nightstand. Dean's collar.

"Oh, God. Please…Christine!"

* * *

The sound of sirens filled the air around them. Six took a few steps forward – examining the main chamber of the vault. "Jesus Christ, it's loud in here!"

"Elijah must have tripped security," Veronica said, joining Six at his side. He could barely hear her over the sirens. "How do we get in?"

Six examined the blue barrier before him. "I have no idea…God, do you think you could break out one of those windows?"

God stepped from the entrance hall into the corridor where Six and his team awaited. Immediately he felt the collar activate in his stomach. He quickly stepped backwards. "No. Interference…the collar will go off long before I'm able to put a dent in that Vault-Tech equipment."

Six bit his lower lip. He walked along the corridor towards a terminal. "Maybe this…" He began punching keys. First the alarms shut off. Then, after a moment, the blue shields were down.

"You did it!" Veronica cheered.

"I didn't do any…" Six began.

"No…no he didn't," Boone gestured across the cavernous area. Elijah emerged, holorifle in hand, slowly making his way towards the vault. He stopped when he saw them.

"Ah, you made it after all," Elijah calmly holstered his rifle. "And you've gotten your collars off, bravo. Do you realize where you are?" He motioned around him. "This…is…ah. The past you're walking through. Very few have ever seen it…no one else ever will. Perfectly preserved…and now it belongs to me."

Veronica stepped forward. Elijah mirrored her motion, stepping towards her. "Elijah…"

Before she could finish Elijah stretched out his arm, wrapping his hand across her wrist and flipping her back towards him. Instantly, he had her neck resting in the crook of his elbow, and just as quickly he brought his pistol to her throat. "Now…I'm going to walk into this vault. And you…you're going to take that FEV reject and your sniper and leave. I'm giving you your freedom! But the Sierra Madre _is MINE!"_

Boone leveled his rifle at Elijah's head. Six held up his hands, "Look…"

God tore past him like a streak of lightning. Elijah pointed the pistol at the creature – simultaneously bracing for destruction. "No! Stop!"

God's legs came to an abrupt halt. "_What_?" God's expression became one of astonishment and annoyance.

Elijah looked at him, and then smiled wide.

"Dog…is gone. You…cannot…control…_me_," The syllables trickled from God's tongue. Each word clinging to an exasperated, aching, breath.

"Gone?" Elijah laughed. "You think you can sit down in a single session with a pseudo-psychologist and cure yourself of hundreds of years of ailment?" Elijah scoffed. "No. Your kind…they were made to be servants. To be soldiers. You exist merely to be given orders. Nothing can change that."

"That might…" God groaned, "…be the case. But I don't have to listen to _you_."

"And yet you are…probably the ever obedient Dog clinging to life," Elijah looked past God and at Six and Boone. "Kill them."

While Elijah made for the vault, God felt his insides burning. He could feel Dog crawling from the pits – coming back to life. He twisted his body around, fighting it. His eyes were wide with pity…for he knew that when Dog regained control, Six and Boone would perish. "_Run…_"

Then he was gone…God. In his place the ravenous beast reemerged. It charged forward, hitting Six with a backhand that sent him crashing over the railing onto pipes below. He immediately felt chest burning with insurgence as the cloud filled his lungs. Just ahead of him, he saw the vestiges of another person long dead. He struggled to make his way to his feet…but they wouldn't obey. His chest ached; partially due to the impact, but also due to the gas that now filled his lungs.

Above him, Dog charged Boone. Boone raised his rifle and fired, connecting firmly with Dog's chest. The creature took the full impact of the round without stopping. It came headlong at Boone, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him high into the air. Then it brought him crashing down onto his back. His rifle flew from his grasp and across the corridor, coming to rest against the stairs beneath where the blue barrier had been. Its hands still around his throat, it leaned in close. Bits of saliva dripped from its mouth, falling onto Boone's face, covering his shades. Boone fumbled for his sidearm, but the creatures free hand pinned him down.

"Now, Dog make quiet man go even more quiet…"

* * *

Inside the vault Elijah released Veronica. However, he did not lower his firearm. He stepped back cautiously. "Veronica…you have to see. What I'm doing here is for the good. It's the only course of action left to take. It's the only way to secure the future for the Brotherhood."

"Elijah…" Veronica's tears had been spent. Her cheery voice was somber. "If you try to keep us here…"

"Not all…I'm not going to take such a risk when I'm this close. I can't afford to be so reckless. No, not all. Just you."

"I'll destroy every piece of data down here."

"No. You won't. It'd most likely trigger other security measures…but you're curious."

"Not anymore. I know what's down here…you've told me. Death. Death for people who don't deserve it. I'll destroy it all before I let you kill them."

"You might destroy access to the data…but not the data itself. There are significant safeguards in place. You can't tell me you don't recognize the value of what's down here. You would no sooner destroy what's inside the Sierra Madre than you would destroy yourself. Or your friends. Let's get past the threats, Veronica. They're empty. You want what's down here as much as I do."

"Seeing what you've turned into. I don't want any part of this. Let us leave. Please. Lock the vault behind me. I'll tell them you're trapped…that the security sealed you in."

Elijah shook his head. "No! I cannot take that chance. Besides…you go out there, the FEV reject will break you."

Veronica closed her eyes. She felt her throat tighten up and she brought her hands to her face. Elijah stepped towards her. "There there…"

She was on him in an instant – a quick left jab, followed by a fury of kicks. She held back nothing, save the gauntlet on her right hand. She didn't want him dead. She wanted him immobilized. He fought back, but she was too quick. She seamlessly dodged his attacks. Each swing that connected, she blocked and countered. Elijah stumbled back into the terminal, body limp.

She swiped the holorifle from the unconscious Elijah; then, made for the vault door. It wouldn't budge. Veronica stepped back…she examined the door. She inspected the terminals. Nothing. There was no option to disengage the vaults locks. It was like a prison cell…Elijah was right. The casino did have security measures. They didn't even need to come down here to begin with. Elijah would have never left this vault.

Elijah! She turned to his body, still lying on the floor. She practically ran to him. Lifting his wrist, she fumbled with the pip-boy. "Christine? Christine, can you hear me? I need your help!" Silence. "Oh, God…please. Christine!"

"Vee!"

"Christine! I'm trapped in the vault. It's been remotely locked. I need you to find a way to open it. Dog is going to kill Six and Boone. You have to hurry!"

"There's nothing on Vera's terminal to access the vault…it has to be down there with you!"

"No…no it's not I've check…" Then it hit her. "It is! It's beside the vault door…on the outside. Why would he…"

* * *

"It's beside the vault door...on the outside. Why would he…" Six could hear Christine and Veronica through his pip-boy. He struggled to his feet, dragging along the pipes. A single shot rang out, echoing through the chamber. He climbed back onto the catwalk at a snail's pace. Dog lifted Boone high into the air by his throat, then brought him crashing down onto his back. Six approached the vault door, his brain condemning him, cursing him for every step. Still, his body willed him on. He turned on the terminal.

‹**Loading…›**

"Come on…" Six glanced over his shoulder. Dog was choking the life out of Boone.

‹**Initiating Advanced Access Protocols…›**

Boone reached for his pistol. Dog pinned him with his free arm.

‹**Insert Password›**

Six struggled with his thoughts. Then smiled…he typed "Vera".

‹**Access Granted›**

‹**Disengage Vault Security›**

Six saw the option immediately. He selected it, and the vault door swung open.** "**Now, Dog make quiet man even more quiet…" The creature raised Boone high into the air.

Veronica bolted by Six, holorifle in hand. She took aim, and fired. Dog dropped Boone onto the catwalk with a heavy thud. He gasped for breath. Dog turned to Veronica…took a step…then collapsed. Veronica eyed the holorifle. "What the hell is this thing?"

"…You…try to steal from me…."

Veronica turned to the source of the voice. Elijah had regained composure. He charged through the vault door. Six swung his leg around…catching Elijah's foot. He stumbled forward…his momentum carrying him. He staggered past Veronica and over the catwalk's railing; disappearing into the red abyss below.

* * *

_So, be sure to let me know what you all think of the beginning of this chapter. If you all want me to cover the final night for the guests of the Sierra Madre...tell me in a review, or shoot me a private message. I'll post the next chapter late Friday night-early Saturday morning. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I really liked the way it turned out._

_Thanks again to all my readers, and an extra special thanks to all of you who took the time to review. If it weren't for your support, I'd likely have lost interest in writing this a long time ago. See you next time!  
_


	13. Epilogue: Greed Is In The Blood

_I rewrote parts of this chapter about four times before I was pleased with it. I really need to stop working on this story so late...I haven't posted one on time in forever. Setting deadlines for my chapters doesn't seem to motivate me. But, then again, if I didn't set deadlines, I'd probably never work on it._

I tried to wrap up Dead Money's plot, Christine not wanting to leave, Dean disappearing, etc. I've also included a little more of the back story to the Sierra Madre. Hopefully, you all enjoy it. Cheers.

Oh, and by the way...undeadyeti, your review was priceless. And yes. Yes you may absolutely have some more.

* * *

Most of us know what it's like to be hurt – a great deal of us know what it's like to be betrayed. But the most potent and heartbreaking pain comes not at the hands of another, but of the self. The type of pain we feel when we are utterly broken and have truly given up. When we become anesthetized to betrayal, desensitized to the pain we cause on others. The pain that makes us scream on the inside, while the outside lingers in silence. A silence that breaks the hearts of those we hold dearest. That's the pain that Sinclair felt at this moment.

Vera's voice was a distant echo. Sinclair's eyes stared empty and broken into hers. He could see her mouth moving, her tears falling, but he couldn't hear her. Couldn't _feel _her. Sometimes we think that coming clean absolves us of our sins – perhaps, on some level, that's what Vera Keyes sought now. Absolution. Forgiveness. But the truth is…it doesn't absolve us. It doesn't make us feel better, and it doesn't justify the things we've done. But…it's a step. In the right direction. If we do not own up to our mistakes, we begin to rationalize them. Such a complicated web we weave. An intricate system founded on whole-lies, half-truths, and words left unspoken. But…when one thread unravels…the walls come tumbling down.

Sinclair swallowed as his mind began to come to.

"Sinclair, I'm sorry…" Vera sank into the floor. Eyes wet with tears, face flushed, and makeup smeared. She leaned into Sinclair's leg – though he sat as a statue, unwavering and cold – and buried her face into her arms. Her soft sobs intermittently breaking the silence that enveloped the two as they sat alone in her suite.

After a long silence she looked back up at him. Her eyes red and wet with tears. "He was blackmailing me, Sinclair," Her face turned to the floor. "With my addictions."

Somewhere in Sinclair's hollow being a shadow of his former self clawed to life. His stone gaze softened and he looked down at her. "He…he what?"

"He was blackmailing me…" She repeated, head still buried in her arms.

Sinclair reached down, cupping her chin and raising her face so that her eyes would meet his own. "But…your condition. Surely he has to know that you need the meds? That without them…"

"It doesn't matter if he knows. If he releases those holotapes to the press…" Her eyes fluttered away from Sinclair's gaze. "They won't care about the reasoning for my drug use. They'll only see the drug use. It's the way it's always been with celebrities." She sniffed and laid her head back into her arms.

Sinclair made his way to the floor beside her. He wiped her tears with his thumb and rested the bridge of his nose against her forehead. "Vera…I don't know if things can ever go back to the way they were…I'm not sure I can ever feel the way I used to." Sinclair kissed her forehead before standing. As he made his way to her bedroom door, he turned back to her. "This casino…the vault…it was all for you. It's still for you. You are its heart. Its inspiration. And it will protect that heart…as surely as you've tucked yours away…as I should have protected mine."

The door shut with a soft click.

* * *

Dean sat in his dressing room, nestled away in the casino. Outside he could see the central fountain in the villa. People had gathered around it – eagerly awaiting the Gala Event to start. Waiting for the casino to open its gates. He flipped his wrist up glancing at his watch. It was almost time. All she had to do was use that precious voice of hers and the contents of that vault would belong to him. And finally, Sinclair would understand what he felt…how he felt…to lose what he held dearest. Just as Sinclair had stole the stage from Dean, whatever it was deep inside that vault, it would soon be stolen in return.

The sun had begun to set by the time music began to pour out of the speakers – loud, obnoxious music. Dean didn't like it at all, it had no class. No style. In the air, fireworks began to explode, pop, and flare. The gates began to open – people practically stumbled over each other to get in. Suddenly the sky burned bright white, Dean squinted – even behind his shades. "Jesus, Sinclair…are you trying to blind your guests…" Cries of excitement and awe filled the air around him.

But no. Something wasn't right. Dean felt it. He stood, making his way to the window. In the distance, he could see it. A mushroom shaped cloud rose high into the sky – burning as bright as the sun. Dean's mouth fell open in alarm…war had begun.

Wheeling around, he made his way for his door, though he honestly had no idea where he was going. Outside the faint cries began to seem more like cries of terror than awe. Inside the Tampico, security had activated. Dean stepped out onto the stage. One of the holograms stared at him expectantly. He raised a brow, but didn't move. The hologram watched Dean intently – it even waved at him. He hopped off the stage, the friendly blue turned yellow. It raised its arm in protest, pointing towards the stage. Dean rolled his eyes. "C'mon Sinclair…if you want security, hire people…I mean honestly what's a holo…"

All he saw was red. A succession of rapid laser fire whizzed by him. He stumbled backwards as one connected with his shoulder. Dean staggered back, then, continued down across the room in a half sprint, holding his burning shoulder. The hologram firing the entire time. Somehow, he made it to the elevator. He jabbed a key, the elevator opened with a hiss.

But he would find no safety outside the Tampico. The lobby was a massacre…the security holograms fired upon the guests. Dean looked on in horror as people were cut down in a swath of red fury. One of the holograms took note of him and began to fire. He ducked and fumbled about, toppling down the stairs onto the first floor. He picked himself up slowly, and his eyes found the front entrance. Corpses littered the floor around it. He made his way to his feet and, with what strength he could must, sprinted towards the door. The holograms fired at him all the while. But, somehow, he made it…outside. Where the nuclear missile had gone off…

He realized at that point that he couldn't very well wander out into the desert. So, instead, he elected to travel to the residential district. To his room, where he would lay low until help came. Surely, Sinclair had prepared for this moment…when the bombs dropped. Surely, he had installed an emergency broadcast.

Around him, a strange red gas began to seep out of the streets. Out of cracks in the ground, out of manholes, and storm drains. Dean coughed and sputtered as he made his way through the villa's streets. Around him, the cries of terror had mostly stopped. He was utterly alone.

* * *

Six struggled to stand. Veronica stretched out her arm. He took it in kind, and she hauled him to his feet. The girl was surprisingly stout. Clutching his chest and breathing heavy, he limped towards the railing. He peered into the red haze below, looking for any sign of life. He found none. He turned back to Veronica, who was helping Boone to his feet.

"Boone" He stepped towards them. "…are you alright?"

Boone grunted in response, leaning against the railing. "Never better."

Six turned his attention to Veronica, who had joined the two in looking into the red abyss. "Vee…I'm…I'm sorry."

She looked at Six with eyes full of pain, then forced a smile. "I'm just glad you're okay." She stepped forward, embracing him with a hug. Then turned towards Boone, "And you too…"

Boone raised an arm. "I'm good, thanks."

She smiled again, a little more genuinely this time.

"What the hell did you shoot that thing with?" Boone asked, nodding towards God's motionless body on the catwalk.

Veronica lifted the holorifle, looking it over. "I don't know what this is…it's not like any other weapon I've ever seen." She reached it to Six.

He raised a brow. "You…don't want to keep it?"

"I don't want anything that reminds me of the man that Elijah turned into." She pushed the rifle towards him again.

Six curled his lips slightly and took it. "Well…thanks."

Veronica smiled at him. "Least I could do, after all this."

"So what's in that vault anyway?"

"I didn't really look around."

Six limped towards the vault. He looked around it quietly. "I don't know what Elijah was after in here…" he said, "But we're taking as much of _that_ as we can."

Veronica and Boone followed his gaze. Within the vault, nestled on a table out of the way, was a massive stack of gold bars.

"So…I guess that's what Dean was after," Boone speculated.

"I don't think even Dean knew what he was after," Six replied. He lifted one of the bars. "Damn things are heavy…but if we can each manage two, we should be able to bring back at least six of them."

Veronica's eyes widened. "Christine…we can't let her stay here."

"We can't very well make her leave either…" Boone countered.

"Well, I can sure as hell try," Veronica snapped back.

Boone didn't respond. The group began making their way towards the elevator. As they passed the body of God, Six stopped. He looked down at the creature sympathetically. "At least now, no one can…"

God's hand closed around Six's leg. The creature looked up at Six, scowling. "Which one of you shot me?"

Six's eyes widened. "I…uh…we…"

"I did," Veronica answered.

"Did you, little doll?" God asked, carefully making his way to his feet. He stepped towards Veronica and leaned down. His eyes meeting hers. "If that's the case…"

Six took aim with the rifle.

"Then, thank you."

Veronica raised a brow, "You're thanking me?"

"Yes. If you hadn't intervened, Dog would have killed these two. Then you. And then he'd been serving that damned Old Man for who knows how long."

"Oh…well, you're welcome. I guess."

God gave her a light nod, then turned to Six. "However…if you do not quit aiming that gun at me…the little scuffle you had with Dog…it won't even begin to compare to what I'll do to you."

Six lowered the rifle instantly.

"Good boy," God quipped.

* * *

"Where's Dean?" Six asked.

"He left…shortly after you all got into the vault."

"He left?"

"Yeah."

"Any idea where he was going?"

"He talked about Vegas, but he didn't say much."

"Well, then," Six removed his beret, running his hand through his hair. "You can't honestly be thinking about staying here?" Six asked bluntly.

Christine didn't respond.

"You were only just reunited with the woman you love…and you're going to give that up. Why?"

"It's not like it's something I'm looking forward to. But this place is dangerous. People need to be warned. People need to keep away from it."

"Big fish."

"What?"

"Go back, start telling people you've been here. That it's a death trap. It's empty and fruitless. That there's nothing here worth getting."

"Not everyone will believe that."

"Exactly. But eventually, the stories you tell will overshadow the legends of the Sierra Madre. Then, they'll become the legend."

"Like the stories of that tribal pretty much single handedly saving Shady Sands," Boone chimed in. "Stories become legends. Spread by word of mouth. Impossible things become routine."

Christine looked at the ground.

"Look," Boone began. "I know what it's like to lose someone you care about. You don't want to give her up." Boone pointed to the robed woman sitting on one of the suite's sofas.

"At the very least," Six placed a hand on Christine's shoulder. "…go talk to her."

Christine made her way to Veronica she sat down and they began to talk.

"Think we convinced her?" Boone asked.

"Oh, I _know_ we have. Let's go see if God needs a hand down in the vault."

* * *

"But why!?" Veronica's voice was pained.

"We can't leave this place unprotected..." Christine answered. "Someone has to stay…to make sure that this technology never falls into the wrong hands. Into the hands of someone like Elijah ever again."

Veronica was quiet for a while, then quietly: "I'm staying with you."

Christine smiled, "That's sweet Vee…but I can't ask you…"

"You don't have a say in the matter. I lost you once," Veronica scooped up Christine's hand. "I'm never going to go through that again." She leaned forward, devouring Christine's lips.

The elevator opened with a ding. Six, Boone, and God stepped through - God toting a duffle bag that looked considerably heavy.

"I told you. Greed is in the blood. And in the end, it has its day. You fancy yourself to be different…but you're just like everyone else that's been here."

"Except," Six interjected, "I got us into the vault."

Boone grunted, "It was a team effort."

"Every team has its captain," Six said, echoing the words of Ramos from weeks past.

Boone didn't respond. The group approached Veronica and Christine, who – at this point – were still enveloped in a passionate kiss. Six coughed.

Veronica looked at him. "We've got it all worked out."

"Good. I want to get out of here as soon as we can."

"Um…" Veronica's voice trailed off. "It'll just be you three."

Six raised a brow. "Ah…do what, now?"

"I'm staying here. If Christine isn't leaving, neither am I."

"That's insane. Neither of you are staying here. Those damned ghost creatures have been weaseling their way in and out of the casino since we got in. You stay here, and it's only a matter of time before they come after you."

"We have the holograms."

"Which are also mostly hostile. No. You can't stay here, it's too dangerous."

"It's dangerous anywhere you go. Do you realize what would happen if this technology got into the wrong hands?" Christine asked. "People would die. Hundreds of people. Even thousands. The human race isn't exactly in a position to be losing those kinds of numbers."

"That's what the ghost people are for. They'll protect this place. Keep intruders out."

"Like they kept out Elijah?" Christine retorted. "Like us? No. The simple fact of the matter is, eventually someone else will get in"

"Especially now," Veronica chimed in. "Considering we've shut down mostly all of the Casino's security."

"Then we'll boot it back up. Reset the Gala Event."

Christine shook her head. "Even then, it'll only slow people down. Eventually, someone will get in."

"And what do you think they'll be after?" Six asked, clearly getting frustrated. "The cloud? No. They'll be after the gold down in that vault." He turned to God, opening the duffle bag. "_That_," He said, pointing into the bag. "That's what they'll be after. Money. Not toxic gas. Not impervious holographic weapons."

Christine didn't respond.

"So both of you quit this foolish talk of sacrificing the rest of your lives to protect _us_ from ourselves. For fuck's sake, Veronica, even you said it…you need to be doing more than protecting the people of the wasteland. You need to be actively helping them."

"The founder's axioms…" Christine started.

"Ask Veronica what she thinks of those damned axioms," Six interrupted.

"This is different…" Veronica's voice was timid. "This type of technology…it does need to be hidden away."

"Bull shit. You're trivially siding with Christine because you have feelings for her. You don't believe a damn word you're saying."

"Siding with someone you care about isn't trivial," Veronica's voice was shaky.

God dropped the duffle bag with a large thud. "Children, children. Stop your bickering." He turned to Christine, "You're the one that wants to stay, then?"

She pressed her lips and swallowed. Then gave a nod.

"And how old are you, little doll?"

Christine turned to him. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"You humans. Such fragile creatures. How many of you live to be more than sixty? So you can protect this vault for another thirty, maybe forty years."

"That'll be forty years that it's protected."

God shook his head, "You're making a lot of assumptions. That you're capable of protecting this place…" with lightning speed, God grabbed her by the ankle. Lifting in high into the air, upside down, and stared her in the face. "Ammunition is unlimited, with the machines. But chips…chips are not. And neither is scrap metal. Your…resources are limited. And so is your ability."

"If you've got a point, then make it," Christine spat.

God grinned. "_You_…are limited. By time. By stature. By nature. _I am not_."

"And you want to protect this place?"

"This place? No. Dog? Yes. But that needs not be mutually exclusive. Here…there are no people to give him commands. Or, there won't be, after you leave. Here, I can let him out. I can let him play." God placed his free hand on her hip, flipped her around and sat her back on the floor. "So go. Go with the woman that was ready to throw her life away for your ignorance. Go back to your old world. Your old life. Know that I will stay here…I will watch over the Sierra Madre. And I will do so far longer than you ever could."

God turned to Six. "But this means you've lost your pack mule…so unless you're going to carry three hundred pounds of old world gold back to Vegas yourself…you're going to have to let your greed go."

Six eyed the duffle bag, "That doesn't mean we have to give it all up. We just can't take as much."

God clutched his stomach and let out a long, guttural laugh. "Ladies and gentleman…I present to you, your captain. Endowed just as well as the rest of humanity…with greed."

Six shrugged, then turned back to Veronica. "So…you two aren't going to stay in this death trap, are you?"

Veronica looked at Christine, who smiled in return. She turned back to Six. "No…no, we're going home."

"I hope, by that, you mean the Mojave…and not California."

Veronica smiled wide at him. "The Mojave's been my home for quite some time now."

Six grinned lightly and nodded. "Alright then. Let's get out of here."

"No," Christine said. "First, we need to change the signal the Madre is broadcasting."

"Won't that just attract attention?" Boone asked. "If the signal changes…that means someone has made it here."

"Not if the voice still belongs to Vera Keyes," Christine pointed out.

* * *

_What is wealth? What does it take to truly find happiness? Fame? Fortune? Frederick Sinclair believed one's life could be made anew every day. That fortunes were more than the wealth in your hands. Love, life family, those to care for, and those who will care for you. To those who know these joys, the Sierra Madre holds little they don't already have. Out in the world, beyond these walls, there lies your real chance to begin again._

"Beyond these walls…" Dean smiled at the thought. He turned to the bartender, "Ah…what did you say your name was again, chap?"

"Ike," The bartender told him.

"Well, Ike. How far from Vegas am I?"

"Five hour walk, give or take," Ike told him, pouring him a shot of whiskey.

"Splendid," Dean downed the shot and slapped a stack of prewar money on the counter; then, he strolled out of the bar.

Ike gave the money a puzzled look. Though it wasn't caps, the stack was thick enough that it would fetch him easily double what he would have charged for the drink.

Outside, Dean took a long breath of fresh air. It was good to be rid of that damned cloud. Then, he began up the street – Vegas looming in the distance. All the while, he whistled a tune familiar to him…the whistling became humming. The humming became singing.

"_Where…can we go…When will we find, that we know…To let go. Begin, begin again tonight…"  
_

* * *

_And so ends Aces & Eights. Hopefully, I've done it justice. Next week, we'll pick up with A Courier's Tale. And - hopefully - by the end of this month, we'll begin Through Hardships & Sorrows. I cannot wait to get to Graham. Until next time._


End file.
